on into the
wilderness beyond. Warming to their work, they continued to paddle hour
after hour--steadily, persistently, with clockwork regularity of stroke,
but never decreasing force. To save time they, as it were, cut off
corners at the river-bends, and just shaved the points as they went by.

"Have a care, Ian!" exclaimed Victor, at one of these places, as his
paddle touched the bottom. "We don't draw much water, to be sure, but a
big stone might--hah!"

A roar of dismay burst from the youth and his companion as the canoe
rasped over a stone.

We have said that the birch canoe was an egg-shell. The word is
scarcely figurative. The slightest touch over a stone has a tendency to
rip the bark of such a slender craft, or break off the resinous gum with
which the seams are pitched. Water began to pour in.

"Too bad!" exclaimed Victor, flinging his paddle ashore, as he stepped
over the side into water not much above his ankles, and pulled the canoe
slowly to land.

"An illustration of the proverb, `The more haste the less speed,'"
sighed Ian, as he stepped into the water and assisted in lifting the
canoe tenderly to dry ground.

"Oh, it's all very well for you to take it philosophically, but you know
our chance is gone. If it was _your_ brother we were after you wouldn't
be so cool."

"He is Elsie's brother," replied Ian, "and that makes me quite as keen
as if he were my own, besides keeping me cool. Come, Vic, don't be
cross, but light the fire and get out the gum."

While he spoke Ian was actively untying a bundle which contained awls
and wattape, a small pliable root, with which to repair the injury. The
gum had to be melted, so that Victor found some relief to his feelings
in kindling a fire. The break was not a bad one. With nimble fingers
Ian sewed a patch of bark over it. While that was being done, Victor
struck a light with flint and steel, and soon had a blazing firebrand
ready.

"Hand it here, Vic," said Ian.

He covered the stitches with melted gum, blew the charcoal red-hot,
passed it here and there over the old seams where they exhibited signs
of leakage, and in little more than half an hour had the canoe as tight
as a bottle. Once more they embarked and drove her like an arrow down
stream.

But precious time had been lost, and it was dark when they passed from
the river and rested on the bosom of the mighty fresh-water sea.

"It's of no use going on without knowing which shore the