." No mistake now, and Rolf sent the ringing answer
back:

"Ye-hoo-o, ye-hoo-o."

In ten minutes there was a sharp "yap, yap," and Skookum bounded out of
the woods to leap and bark around Rolf, as though he knew all about it;
while a few minutes later, came Quonab striding.

"Ho, boy," he said, with a quiet smile, and took Rolf's hand. "Ugh!
That was good," and he nodded to the smoke fire. "I knew you were in
trouble."

"Yes," and Rolf pointed to the swollen ankle.

The Indian picked up the lad in his arms and carried him back to the
little camp. Then, from his light pack, he took bread and tea and made a
meal for both. And, as they ate, each heard the other's tale.

"I was troubled when you did not come back last night, for you had no
food or blanket. I did not sleep. At dawn I went to the hill, where
I pray, and looked away southeast where you went in the canoe. I saw
nothing. Then I went to a higher hill, where I could see the northeast,
and even while I watched, I saw the two smokes, so I knew my son was
alive."

"You mean to tell me I am northeast of camp?"

"About four miles. I did not come very quickly, because I had to go for
the canoe and travel here.

"How do you mean by canoe?" said Rolf, in surprise.

"You are only half a mile from Jesup River," was the reply. "I soon bring
you home."

It was incredible at first, but easy of proof. With the hatchet they
made a couple of serviceable crutches and set out together.

In twenty minutes they were afloat in the canoe; in an hour they
were safely home again.

And Rolf pondered it not a little. At the very moment of blackest
despair, the way had opened, and it had been so simple, so natural, so
effectual. Surely, as long as he lived, he would remember it. "There is
always a way, and the stout heart will find it."

Chapter 50. Marketing the Fur

If Rolf had been at home with his mother, she would have rubbed his
black and swollen ankle with goose grease. The medical man at Stamford
would have rubbed it with a carefully prepared and secret ointment. His
Indian friend sang a little crooning song and rubbed it with deer's fat.
All different, and all good, because each did something to reassure the
patient, to prove that big things were doing on his behalf, and each
helped the process of nature by frequent massage.

Three times a day, Quonab rubbed that blackened ankle. The grease saved
the skin from injury, and in a week Rolf had thrown his crutc