rs,
and Norman and Roy were dispatched to the Indian camp to find Moosetooth
and La Biche, who were to go a short distance up the river and bring the
waiting flatboats down to a point opposite the freight cars. This duty
appeared to interest young Zept and he cheerfully joined the other boys
in their task.

Opposite the new steamboat they passed a larger and noisier hotel, in
front of which were collected many curious people of the country, many of
whom were lazy-looking, slovenly-garbed half-breeds.

Young Zept was full of animation, spoke jovially to any one who caught
his eye and, although it was early in the day, suggested that his young
friends stop with him in the bar room. But Norman and Roy's whole
interest was in the task before them and when they saw the Count abruptly
salute a red-jacketed mounted policeman who was standing in the door of
the hotel, they hurried on without even the formality of declining Paul's
invitation.

By the time the old steersmen had been found, the Count was out of their
minds. Although the riverbank was sticky with mud, there was an
exhilarating crispness in the air and the river fog had now disappeared.
Led by the two Indians, the boys made their way a half mile up the river.
Here, on a high clean bank, stood the big red river warehouse of the H.
B. Company. Among the willow bushes opposite it was a fleet of new
"sturgeon heads," and just below these, two boats that had been put aside
for Colonel Howell.

From among the bushes near the warehouse the two Indians produced a pump
and then for two hours took turns in drawing the water from the half
submerged boats. Just before noon, Moosetooth taking his place in the
stern of the rear boat with a small steering oar, La Biche loosened the
craft and Norman and Roy were on their first voyage in the historic
flatboat of the Athabasca.

It was curious to note the skill with which the veteran riverman allowed
the current to carry his boats on their way, and the ease with which they
were finally drawn in to the bank opposite the freight cars.

Roy proposed to secure a shovel for cleaning out the mud, but old La
Biche laughed.

"The sun," he said, "he goin' do dat."

Near the landing, as the boys returned to the hotel, they discovered a
thing they had not noticed in the morning. A grizzled "Baptiste," as
Norman liked to designate each Indian, was busy with a draw knife, a
chisel and a maul, finishing steering oars. These enormous obje