swift as a
mill race. Some two hundred yards below the point on which they had
landed the heavy white rapids began, and with but one exception the
perpendicular wall of rock that formed the mainland shore extended to
and beyond the white water.

This exception occurred about half-way between the island and the
heavy rapids, where for a distance of some six or eight yards frost
action had caused disintegration of the rock, and the wall sloped down
toward the river at an angle of forty-five degrees.

At the foot of this slope, and on a level with the water, a narrow
platform had been formed by the dislodged portion of the rock. Under
the most favourable conditions exceedingly expert canoemen might
succeed in making a landing here, but it was plain that the foothold
offered was so narrow and so unstable that any attempt to make a
landing upon it would prove perilous and more than likely fatal.

The island itself was oblong in shape and contained an area of three
or four acres. Its rocky surface sustained a scant growth of gnarled
black spruce and stunted white birch, with here and there patches of
brush.

From their vantage point no sign of the Indians who had caused their
trouble could be seen, and it was evident they had not descended the
river bank below the portage trail.

"Well, what do you think of it, Bob?" Shad asked.

"I'm thinkin' now, th' Injuns are headin' for th' tilt up th' river,
an' that they'll be cleanin' un out an' burnin' un. Th' Injuns t' th'
post tells me they never comes below th' portage. They's afraid o' th'
evil spirits o' th' falls. But they goes back in th' country sometimes
an' circles around by th' Big Hill trail."

"But what do you think of trying to cross, and make a landing down
there where the rock slopes?" inquired Shad.

"We'd never make un, Shad," decided Bob. "I knows th' handlin' o'
boats. I'm too uncertain in a canoe, an' so be you, Shad."

"What are we to do, then? We can't stay here," insisted Shad.

"I'm not knowin' yet. They'll be some way showin'," promised Bob, "but
we'll have t' think un out first."

"What was the matter with those Indians, anyway? I thought all the
Indians were friendly to white men," Shad asked, as they turned down
again to the canoe.

"They's Mingen Injuns," explained Bob. "I were forgettin' t' tell you,
Shad. When we was t' th' post, Douglas Campbell tells me that last
fall some Mingens comes t' th' last tilt o' th' Big Hill trail an'
tell