tain conditions have its physical drawbacks. Not only the packs and rifles had to be toted for a considerable distance, but the canoe also, of course. Above the falls Abner and Charlie put aside the paddle and poled up the swift water.
Then came more “carries,” around rapids, called “rips” by Bub, around big trees that had fallen out into the stream.
It was when about to enter Kennebago lake that Stanley received a second lesson in wood life. The canoe was floating idly near a broad expanse of bog when there sounded a cry that was suggestive of the cackling of a hen. In the domestic environment of the farmyard Stanley would have paid no heed, but out here, with no signs of human habitations to break the monotony of woods and water, the noise caused him to start nervously.
The others in the canoe lifted their heads quickly on having heard it, Bub being unusually grave of face. Stanley, with Abner’s sarcasm fresh in mind, did not venture to seek information. He thought Charlie quickened his stroke and from this decided there must be a danger signal in the harsh note. From the tail of his eye he observed that Abner was gazing apprehensively towards the bog, and he wished that he might be given a paddle and be allowed to
