ther of the Snow and his friend
into the arms of the evil spirits. White Brother of the Snow was of
Manikawan's people. The men of the South are the enemies of
Manikawan's people. They are cowards and they must die."

The Indian at the bow paddled desperately away from shore and the
menacing rifle. The Indian at the stern made equally desperate but
ineffectual attempts with his broken paddle.

Another shot rang out, and the bowman ducked, and ceased paddling as a
bullet sang past his head. Immediately the canoe began drifting, and a
moment later the strengthening current caught it.

Then the Indians, alive to this new danger, disregarding bullets, rose
to their feet and paddled desperately, the one in the stern seeming
not to know that the broken stick he held was useless. They knew that
the evil spirits had reached up for their canoe and were drawing them
down--down--to something worse than death. Their faces became drawn
and terror-stricken.

Faintly, and as a voice far away and unreal, they heard Manikawan's
taunts as she ran down the high banks of the river, keeping pace with
the doomed canoe and its occupants going headlong to destruction:

"The men of the South are cowards. They are afraid to die. The evil
spirits are hungry, and soon they will be fed. Their voices are loud.
They are crying with hunger. The men of the South will feed them."

XII

THE TRAGEDY OF THE RAPIDS

The two adventurers marooned on the island ate their first meal of
rabbit, grilled over the coals, with keen relish, though they had
neither salt to season it nor bread to accompany it.

"It might be worse," remarked Shad, when the meal was finished.
"Rabbit is good, and," he continued, lolling back lazily and
contentedly before the fire, "there's always some bright spot to light
the darkest cloud--we've no dishes to wash. A rinse of the tea pail, a
rinse of our cups, and, presto! the thing's done. I detest
dish-washing."

"Aye," admitted Bob, "dish-washin' is a putterin' job."

"Yes, that's it; a puttering job," resumed Shad. "But now let's come
to the important question of the day. Continued banqueting upon
rabbit, I've been told, becomes monotonous, and under any conditions
imprisonment is sure to become monotonous sooner or later. I have a
hunch it will be sooner in our case. I'm beginning to chafe under
bonds already. What are we going to do about it?"

"I'm not knowin' so soon," confessed Bob, "but I'm thinkin' before
t