or supper," said Rob. "Come on and
let's get the rest of the wood for to-night."

They turned now toward the tasks of the camp, work with which they
were familiar, Jesse carrying some more wood, and John, whose turn it
was to bring in the water, starting once more down the steep slope to
the little creek which lay below them. Rob, who had completed his
portion of the camp labor, still stood silent, apparently forgetful of
all about him, staring steadily at the low broken line of white which
marked the summit of the Rockies and the head of the great Athabasca
River which lay on beyond to the westward.

II

AT THE FIRESIDE

"Well, well, young men!" broke out a hearty voice, not long after our
young friends had completed their evening's work and were seated near
the fire. "How are you getting on? Are the mosquitoes pretty bad?"

"Hello, Uncle Dick!" answered John. "We thought it was about time for
you to be coming up."

"And about mosquitoes," answered Jesse, brushing at his face, "I
should say they were pretty bad for early spring."

"Well, I'm glad to be in for the day," remarked the tall, lean-looking
man they all called Uncle Dick--the friend to whom they owed so many
pleasant and adventurous journeys in out-of-the-way parts of the
country. He was dressed as the men of the engineers usually were in
the rough preliminary survey work. He wore a wide white hat, flannel
shirt, loose woolen clothing, and high laced boots. His face was
burned brown with the suns of many lands, but his blue eyes twinkled
with a kindly light, which explained why all of these boys were so
fond of him.

"Where's Moise?" asked Rob, after a time, assisting Uncle Dick at
unsaddling his riding-pony.

"Just back on the trail a way," replied the older member of the party.
"Stuck in the mud. Considerable muskeg in here, believe me."

Presently they could hear the voice of Moise, the remaining member of
their party, who was to go along as cook and assistant with the
pack-train. He was singing in a high voice some odd Indian tune, whose
words may have been French; for Moise Richard, as all our readers will
remember who followed the fortunes of our young adventurers in their
trip along the Peace River, was a French half-breed, and a man good
either with boats or horses.

"Hello, Moise!" cried the three companions, as he came into view,
driving ahead of him the remainder of the pack-train. They pronounced
his name as he did, "Mo-ees"