we see traces of them every day."

As they were talking, Pierre came back almost as quickly and silently as
he had gone. He sat down by the fire and said about three words to Mr.
Waterman and relapsed into silence again.

"'Big fish,' he says," translated Mr. Waterman.

"It sounded like a deer to me," said Mr. Anderson.

"We'll look for tracks in the morning before we leave," said Mr.
Waterman.

He then turned to Pierre and talked to him in French.

"'No deer. Big fish,' he says," said Mr. Waterman as he turned around.

"Well, if he's sure of it, he's right," said Mr. Anderson. "They have
ways of knowing some of these wood matters that seem uncanny to us."

"Well, let's get to bed," said Mr. Waterman.

They all turned to their dunnage bags and got out their sleeping bags.
Pierre and Joe had only a blanket and they lay down by the fire,
wrapping the blanket around their shoulders but otherwise making no
further preparation.

"Is that the way they sleep all the time?" said Bob.

"No, they probably did not want to burden themselves with anything
extra, as they have lots to carry to-morrow."

The guides had cut down some boughs and the boys soon had a fine bed
ready. They were stretched out looking up at the stars in a very few
moments and Bob felt that this was just the beginning of what promised
to be a most interesting summer. For some time he lay there, watching
lazily the fire as it occasionally threw into relief the green branches
of the trees, or made the shadows deeper and more mysterious. It was not
long, however, that he lay thus undisturbed, for the gnats, "les
moustiques" as the guides called them, began to buzz around and made his
life miserable. Over the fire, Bob had not been much bothered by this
pest but further away they soon became unbearable.

"Ye gods!" said Pud, as he sat up in his blankets. "I'm getting eaten
alive."

"Let's make a smudge," said Bob. "That will help some."

The two boys got up and soon had a real smudge throwing out a sickly
smoke over their blankets. All this time Bill slept peacefully. It
seemed that with his head buried in his blankets he was able to stand
the gnats, but the smoke got him. Evidently a good puff got under his
blankets, for he woke up suddenly and said in a choked voice,

"What in sin's going on? I'm choking. What's the idea?"

Just then a swarm of gnats enveloped his head and he ducked under his
blankets. No more was said, for Bill knew why the s