Kiddie caught a small trout, and then a larger one. Both Rube and he
were expert fishers, and between them they soon had enough for a good
supper.

They entered a sheltered bay, into which flowed a little creek of pure,
sparkling water, overshadowed by great, low-branching cotton-woods and
tall, feathery silver spruce trees.

"No use in goin' far up the creek," said Kiddie, letting his paddle
drag. "What d'ye say to here?"

"Right," agreed Rube. "Thar's a nice level bit o' ground, middle of
them four cotton-woods. We couldn't do better."

They beached the canoe, and while Kiddie began to unload her, Rube went
about collecting twigs and fir cones and as much dry wood as he could
find to start a cooking fire. He built a fireplace of stones from
beside the stream, lined it with dry grass and light twigs, and soon
had a crackling blaze going from which to kindle the larger billets of
wood broken up with his axe.

By the time he had cleaned the fish a glowing red fire was ready. Like
a wise trapper, he put aside the offal to serve as bait for the traps.
Thoroughly drying the cleaned trout, he soused them in flour, and laid
them gently into the frying-pan of boiling lard. Then he gave himself
time to cut bread and brew a dipper of tea.

Kiddie paid no regard to the cooking, excepting occasionally to sniff
at the odorous air that came to him from the frying-pan. He knew that
supper would be quite ready before he had finished his own work of
unloading the canoe and setting up the teepee.

In this latter work he needed no help. There were no tent-pegs to
drive into the hard ground. He had only to erect the tall poles in
pyramid shape, and then enclose them in the buffalo-skin cover, lacing
the latter together down to the door flap.

It looked extremely Indian when it was up, even to the smoke-grime
round about the vent and the picture-writing in many colours that
decorated the outer surface. The two trappers themselves looked Indian
also, in their fur caps, fringed buckskins, and moccasins. Kiddie had
even stuck a pair of white eagle feathers in his cap, and his tunic was
richly decorated with silk thread-work and coloured beads.

When he moved away from the wigwam, Rube saw him go up to a gnarled old
cedar tree and stand looking at it curiously. He seemed to be
peculiarly interested in the rugged trunk. Presently he took a piece
of white chalk from his belt pouch and made a mark upon the tree.

"Gu