creek we have been searching for. It must be, and the little
chap has found it for us."

"Yes," replied Serge. "It begins to look as though Cree Jim's son had
taken Cree Jim's place as guide."

Now the boys pushed forward with increased speed. At length they heard
the barking of dogs, and began to shout, but received no answer. They
had gone a full quarter of a mile from the lake ere they caught sight of
the little fur-clad figure plodding steadily forward on what he fondly
hoped to be his way toward home and the mother for whom his baby heart
so longed. Musky, Luvtuk, and big Amook were his companions, and not
until he was caught up in Phil's arms did the child so much as turn his
head, or pay the slightest heed to those who followed his trail.

As he was borne back in triumph toward camp his lower lip quivered, and
two big tears rolled down his chubby cheeks, but he did not cry nor
utter a complaint; nor from that time on did he make further effort to
regain his lost home. The boys had hardly begun to retrace their steps
when another figure loomed out of the shadows, and came rapidly toward
them. It looked huge in the dim light, and advanced with gigantic
strides.

"Hello!" cried Phil, as he recognized the new-comer. "Where are you
bound?"

"Bound to get lost along with the rest of the crew," replied Jalap
Coombs, stoutly. "Didn't I tell ye I wouldn't put up with your gettin'
lost alone ag'in?"

"That's so; but, you see, I forgot," laughed Phil. "Now that we are all
found, though, let's get back to the supper you were cooking before you
decided to get lost. By-the-way, Mr. Coombs, do you realize that this is
the very stream for which we have been hunting? What do you think of our
young pilot now?"

"Think of him!" exclaimed Jalap Coombs. "I think he's just the same as
all in the piloting business. Pernicketty--knows a heap more'n he'll
ever tell, and won't ever p'int out a channel till you're just about to
run aground. Then he'll do it kinder careless and onconsarned, same as
the kid done jest now. Oh, he's a regular branch pilot, he is, and up to
all the tricks of the trade."

Bright and early the following morning, thanks to Nel-te's pilotage, the
sledges were speeding up the creek on their way to Lost Lake. By
nightfall they had crossed it, three other small lakes, descended an
outlet of the last to Little Salmon River, and after a run of five miles
down that stream found themselves once more amid the ic