down to examine it.

"My blessin' on't whatever it is," thought Rollo, to whom the momentary
relief from walking was of the greatest consequence. Jack knew this,
and hastened his inspection. It was a box of bear's fat.

"Come, not a bad thing in times like these," observed Jack; "will you
carry this or the rifle, my man? See, the rifle is lighter, take that."

Again they stepped out, and the sand seemed to grow softer and deeper as
they advanced. They were now five miles from the end of their journey,
so Jack began to exert himself. He pushed on at a pace that caused
Rollo to pant and blow audibly. For some time Jack pretended not to
notice this, but at last he turned round and said--

"You seem to be fatigued, my man, let me carry the rifle."

Rollo did not object, and Jack went forward with the box and rifle more
rapidly than before. He was perspiring, indeed, at every pore
profusely, but wind and limb were as sound as when he started.

He finally left Rollo out of sight, and arrived at the fishery without
him!

Half an hour afterwards Rollo arrived. He was a stout fellow, and by
taking a short rest, had recovered sufficiently to come in with some
degree of spirit; nevertheless, it was evident to all that he was "used
up," for, "it is not the distance but the pace that kills!" He found
the fishermen at dinner, buttering their cakes with the bear's grease
that had been discovered on the way down. Jack Robinson was sitting in
the midst of them, chatting quietly and smoking his pipe beside the
fire-place of the hut.

Jack introduced him as one of the new men, but made no reference to the
walk from Fort Desolation. He felt, however, that he had conquered the
man, at least for that time, and hoped that further and more violent
methods would not be necessary. In this he was disappointed, as the
sequel will show.

That night Jack slept on a bed made of old salmon-nets, with a new
salmon-net above him for a blanket. It was a peculiar and not a
particularly comfortable bed; but in his circumstances he could have
slept on a bed of thorns. He gazed up at the stars through the hole in
the roof that served for a chimney, and listened to the chirping of the
frogs in a neighbouring swamp, to which the snoring of the men around
him formed a rough-and-ready bass. Thus he lay gazing and listening,
till stars and strains alike melted away, and left him in the sweet
regions of oblivion.

CHAPTER FIVE.

TH