rid th' river on a' ice cake."

"Where'd ye land, now?" asked Dick. "This side o' th' river or t'
other?"

"This side o' un," answered Ed, complacently.

"'Tis sheer rock this side, an' no holt t' land on," said Dick,
triumphantly.

"'Th' water were t' th' top o' th' rock," explained Ed.

"Then," said Dick, with the air of one who has trapped another, "th'
hull country were flooded an' there were no falls."

Ed looked at him for a moment disdainfully.

"I were on th' ice six days, an' _I knows_."

The men were held in waiting for several days after the storm ceased
for the river to clear of debris and sink again to something like its
normal volume, before it was considered safe for them to begin the
voyage out. Then on a fair June morning the boat was laden with the
outfit and fur.

"Poor Bob," said Dick, as Bob's things were placed in the boat. "Th'
poor lad were so hopeful when we were comin' in t' th' trails, an'
now un's gone. 'Twill be hard t' meet his mother an Richard."

"Aye, 'twill be hard," assented Ed. "She'll be takin' un rare hard.
Our comin' home'll be bringin' his goin' away plain t' she again."

"An' Emily, too," spoke up Bill. "They were thinkin' so much o' each
other."

Then the journey was begun, full of danger and excitement as they shot
through rushing rapids and on down the river towards Eskimo Bay, where
great and unexpected tidings awaited them.

XXVI

BACK AT WOLF BIGHT

Bob's apparent death was a sore shock to Richard Gray. When Douglas
found him on the trail and broke the news to him as gently as
possible, he seemed at first hardly to comprehend it. He was stunned.
He said little, but followed Douglas back to the cabin like one in a
mesmeric sleep. A few days before he had gone away happy and buoyant,
now he shuffled back like an old man.

Mechanically he looked at the remains and examined the gun and the
axe--Ed had brought out but one of the axes found by the rock with the
remains--and said, "Th' gun's not Bob's. Th' axe were his."

"Th' gun's not Bob's!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray "Th' clothes is not Bob's!
Now I knows 'tis not my boy we've found."

"Yes, Mary," said he broken-heartedly. "Tis Bob th' wolves got. Our
poor lad is gone. No one else could ha' had his things."

He and Douglas made a coffin into which the remains were tenderly
placed, and it was put upon a high platform near the house, out of
reach of animals, there to rest until the spring, when the sn