aw the swimmer, sir," he persisted doggedly.

"You saw a moose or a caribou," I suggested.

"Would a moose approach the island," he asked, "with the scent of our
camp fire blowing to his nostrils?"

This was true, and I could not deny it.

"Then you would have me believe," said I, "that some enemy swam out from
the mainland to spy upon us?"

"It was a man," the voyageur answered, "and he was swimming this way."

"I will finish your watch, Moralle," said I. "Give me your musket, and
go to bed. Be careful not to waken the others."

He shuffled off without a word, and I was left to my lonely vigil. I had
detected a smell of liquor in Moralle's breath, and I was disposed to
believe that his story had no more foundation than the splashing of a
fish. At all events, while I paced the strip of beach for two hours, I
saw or heard nothing alarming. There was now a glimmer of dawn in the
east, so I wakened Baptiste, bidding him without explanation to take my
place, and returned to the lean-to for a half-hour's sleep.

It was broad daylight when Gummidge roused me. The fire was blazing and
the voyageurs were preparing breakfast. Flora and Mr. Gummidge were
kneeling on a flat stone, dipping their faces and hands into the crystal
waters of the lake. The wooded shores rose around us in majestic
solitude, and I scanned them in all directions without discovering any
trace of human occupation. I made no mention of the incident of the
night, attaching no importance to it; nor did Moralle have anything to
say on the subject.

Sunrise found us embarked and already some distance down the lake. We
were in the heart of the woods, and the wild beauty of the Great Lone
Land cast its mystic spell upon all of us.

The morning was yet young when we passed from the lake into one of its
many outlets. This was a narrow stream, navigable at first, but quickly
becoming too shallow and rocky for our further progress. So we left the
water, and there was now a portage of two miles over a level stretch of
forest, at the end of which we would strike the Churchill River at a
point twenty miles above Fort Royal.

We started off rapidly, Baptiste and the three other voyageurs leading
the way with the canoe on their shoulders. The paddles and a part of the
load were inside, and Gummidge and I carried the rest. The women had no
burdens, and could easily keep pace with us.

"Have you passed this way before?" asked Gummidge.

"Only once," I replied,