"to give up our plans after comin' so far; but it
ain't possible to carry that old 'ooman along with us an' it's not to be
thought of to leave her behind to starve, so there's nothin' for it but
to go back an' take her wi' us to the settlements. I would feel like a
murderer if I was to leave one o' God's creeturs to perish in the
wilderness. What think you, Lawrence?"

"I think you are right, father," replied the youth, with a deep sigh.

"An' what says Swiftarrow?"

"Go back," was the Indian's prompt and laconic answer.

"Well, then, we're all agreed, so we'll turn back on our trail
to-morrow; but I shall try again next year if I'm above ground. I once
know'd a Yankee who had what he called a motto, an' it was this, `Never
give in, 'xcept w'en yer wrong.' I think I'll take to that motto. It
seems to me a good 'un."

In proof, we presume, of his sincerity, Reuben Guff rolled himself in
his blanket, stretched his feet towards the fire, pillowed his head on a
bundle of moss, and at once _gave in_ to the seductive influences of
sleep; an example which was so irresistible that his companions followed
it without delay.

CHAPTER THREE.

INTRODUCES THE KING OF PIONEERS.

Discarding space and ignoring time, we seize you by the hand, reader,
and bound away with you still deeper into the northern wilderness, away
into that remote region which, at the time we write of, was the _ultima
thule_ of the fur-traders of Canada,--beyond which lay the great unknown
world, stretching to the pole. Here, amid the grand scenery of the
Rocky Mountains, lies the Athabasca Lake, also styled the Lake of the
Hills. We prefer the latter name, as being more romantic.

This is no pretty pond such as we in England are wont to visit and
delight in during our summer holidays. It is a great sheet of water; a
grand fresh-water sea, 200 miles long and 15 miles broad--a fitting gem
for the bosom of the mighty region on which it glitters.

A year has fled since the period of our last chapter, and here, in a
birch-bark canoe on the waters of the Lake of the Hills, we find our
pioneers--Reuben Guff, his son Lawrence, and his Indian friend
Swiftarrow. There is also a young Indian woman in the canoe--
Swiftarrow's wife.

The kind-hearted red man adopted the old woman who had been rescued on
their previous trip, but, not finding her a good substitute for his own
mother, he bethought him of adding a young squaw to his establishment.
While