The Red Mans Revenge | Page 8

his canoe!
"Never mind, Vic, push on," said Ian; "of course he would make Tony
lie flat down."
The end of the settlement was passed, and they swept on into the
wilderness beyond. Warming to their work, they continued to paddle
hour after hour--steadily, persistently, with clockwork regularity of
stroke, but never decreasing force. To save time they, as it were, cut off
corners at the river-bends, and just shaved the points as they went by.
"Have a care, Ian!" exclaimed Victor, at one of these places, as his
paddle touched the bottom. "We don't draw much water, to be sure, but
a big stone might--hah!"
A roar of dismay burst from the youth and his companion as the canoe

rasped over a stone.
We have said that the birch canoe was an egg-shell. The word is
scarcely figurative. The slightest touch over a stone has a tendency to
rip the bark of such a slender craft, or break off the resinous gum with
which the seams are pitched. Water began to pour in.
"Too bad!" exclaimed Victor, flinging his paddle ashore, as he stepped
over the side into water not much above his ankles, and pulled the
canoe slowly to land.
"An illustration of the proverb, `The more haste the less speed,'" sighed
Ian, as he stepped into the water and assisted in lifting the canoe
tenderly to dry ground.
"Oh, it's all very well for you to take it philosophically, but you know
our chance is gone. If it was your brother we were after you wouldn't
be so cool."
"He is Elsie's brother," replied Ian, "and that makes me quite as keen as
if he were my own, besides keeping me cool. Come, Vic, don't be cross,
but light the fire and get out the gum."
While he spoke Ian was actively untying a bundle which contained
awls and wattape, a small pliable root, with which to repair the injury.
The gum had to be melted, so that Victor found some relief to his
feelings in kindling a fire. The break was not a bad one. With nimble
fingers Ian sewed a patch of bark over it. While that was being done,
Victor struck a light with flint and steel, and soon had a blazing
firebrand ready.
"Hand it here, Vic," said Ian.
He covered the stitches with melted gum, blew the charcoal red-hot,
passed it here and there over the old seams where they exhibited signs
of leakage, and in little more than half an hour had the canoe as tight as
a bottle. Once more they embarked and drove her like an arrow down
stream.

But precious time had been lost, and it was dark when they passed from
the river and rested on the bosom of the mighty fresh-water sea.
"It's of no use going on without knowing which shore the redskin has
followed," said Ian, as he suddenly ceased work and rested his paddle
on the gunwale.
"It's of no use to remain where we are," replied the impatient Victor,
looking back at his comrade.
"Yes, it is," returned Ian, "the moon will rise in an hour or so and
enable us to make observations; meanwhile we can rest. Sooner or later
we shall be compelled to rest. It will be a wise economy of time to do
so now when nothing else can be done."
Victor was so tired and sleepy by that time that he could scarcely reply.
Ian laughed quietly, and shoved the canoe among some reeds, where it
lay on a soft bed. At the same time he advised his companion to go to
sleep without delay.
More than half asleep already, he obeyed in silence, waded to the shore,
and sat down on a bank to take off his moccasins. In this position and
act he fell asleep.
"Hallo!" exclaimed Ian, coming up with the paddles and pemmican bag;
"too soon, Vic, too soon, lad," (he tumbled him over on the bank);
"come, one mouthful of grub first, then off with the moccasins, and
down we go."
Victor picked himself up with a yawn. On ordinary occasions a
backwoodsman pays some little attention to the comforts of his
encampment, but our heroes were in no condition to mind such trifles.
They pulled off their wet moccasins, indeed, and put on dry ones, but
having done that they merely groped in the dark for the flattest piece of
ground in the neighbourhood, then each rolled himself in his blanket
and lay, or rather fell, down.
"Hah!" gasped Victor.

"Wa's wrong?" sighed Ian faintly.
"Put m' shoulder 'n a puddle, 'at's all," lisped Victor.
"T'ke't out o' the purl, then--oh!" groaned Ian.
"W'as 'e marrer now, eh?" sighed Victor.
"On'y a big stone i' m' ribs."
"Shove't out o' y'r ribs 'en an'