and socks, which he
replaced by lighter foot-gear more suited to the hut; "but I don't much
like the notion o' givin' them a chance to come up and cut all our
throats at once. It's not likely, however, that they'll be here
to-night, considerin' the pace you say you came at, so we'll make our
minds easy, but with your leave we'll cut our sticks to-morrow, an' make
tracks for Fort Enterprise. We han't got much in the way o' grub to
start wi', it is true, but we have enough at least for two days' eatin',
and for the rest, we have our guns, and you to be our guide."

This plan was agreed to by Wapaw, who thereupon advised that they should
all lie down to sleep without delay. Roy, who was fatigued with his
day's exertions, agreed, and in less than half an hour the three were
sound asleep.

Next morning they arose with the sun, much refreshed; and while Wapaw
and Nelly collected together and packed on their new sledge the few
things that they possessed, Roy went for the last time to cast his line
in Silver Lake. He was more fortunate than usual, and returned in an
hour with four fine fish of about six pounds' weight each.

With this acceptable, though small, addition to their slender stock of
provisions, they left the hut about noon, and commenced their journey,
making a considerable _detour_ in order to avoid meeting with any of the
Indians who might chance to have continued the pursuit of Wapaw.

That same evening, towards sunset, a party of hunters marched out of the
woods, and stood upon the shores of Silver Lake, the tracks about which
they began to examine with particular interest. There were six of the
party, five of them being white hunters, and one an Indian. We need
scarcely add that they were our friend Robin and his companions.

"I tell 'ee what it is," cried Robin, in an excited tone, "that's my
Nelly's fut; I'd know the prints o't among a thousand, an' it's quite
plain Roy is with her, an' that Wapaw has come on 'em, for their tracks
are clear."

"Sure it looks like it," observed Larry O'Dowd, scratching his head as
if in perplexity, "but the tracks is so mixed up, it ain't aisy to
foller 'em."

"See, here's a well-beaten track goin' into the wood!" cried Walter, who
had, like his companions, been searching among the bushes.

Every one followed Walter, who led the way towards the hut, which was
finally discovered with a thin, scarcely perceptible line of smoke still
issuing from the chimney. They