s were dripping
with perspiration.

That was a killing march. If it had not been for their weeks of hard
training the boys could never have stood up under it, and they had all
they could do to reach the topmost ridge of the Height of Land by the
middle of the afternoon.

Fred slipped the tumpline from his head, slung the sixty-pound pack on
the ground, and sat down heavily on the pack.

"That part's over, anyway!" he gasped.

"There won't be anything much rougher, old boy," replied Horace, as he
came up and threw off his own burden.

Staggering through the underbrush, slipping on the wet, mossy stones of
the slope, came a queer procession. In front was a bronze-faced
half-breed, bent double, with the broad tump-line over the top of his
head, and a mountainous pack of blankets and food supplies on his back.
Behind him came two more half-breeds, each with a heavy pack of camp
outfit. Macgregor brought up the rear; he carried a Peterboro canoe
upside down on his shoulders, and steadied it with his hands.

They all sat down on the top of the hill to rest. The three white
boys, although trained athletes, were pretty well at the end of their
strength; but the half-breeds seemed little the worse for their labor.

They were on the top of the Height of Land, which divides the flow of
the rivers between the Great Lakes and Hudson Bay. Behind them was the
long, undulating line of hills and valleys they had just crossed.

Before them the land fell away sharply. In the clear May sunshine they
could see for miles over the tree-tops until the dark green of the
spruce and tamarack faded to a hazy blue. A great ridge showed a split
face of gray granite; in the distance a lake glimmered.

About two miles away to the northwest a yellowish-green strip showed
here and there through the trees. It was a river--one of the
tributaries of the Missanabie, which was to take them North.

The descent on the other side of the ridge was almost as hard as the
ascent had been. The northern slope was wet and rocky; in the hollows
were deep banks of snow. The rocks were loosened by the frost, which
made the footing dangerous. But it was only two miles now to the
river, and they reached it in time to camp before dusk. The next
morning they paid off the half-breeds, who returned over the ridges
southward. The boys were left alone; the real expedition had begun.

The work now looked easy, but dangerous. The river was narrow,
swolle