"Well," said Shad, at length, "there's the sun about as high as it will get to-day, and where's your pretty Indian girl?"

"I been thinkin', now," Bob explained, "she's sure havin' a canoe, an' could make un t' th' river tilt an' back, by travellin' all night. But Dick an' Ed an' Bill ain't havin' a canoe, an' if they comes they has t' walk, an' walkin' they can't make un before some time t'morrer, whatever. 'Tis like, now, she'll wait t' show un th' way t' where we be, an' doin' that she won't be comin' till they does t 'morrer."

"Your logic is sound," Shad admitted, "but it's mighty disappointing."

"There she be!" exclaimed Bob, a moment later, as Manikawan, quite alone, emerged from the forest hastening toward them, carrying on her arm two coils of rope--one the coil Bob had left in the first tilt of the new trail, and which she had observed at the time she found and carried away Bob's rifle; the other a tracking line which the trappers had used on their last trip up the river, and which she had discovered in the river tilt.

"Is it well with White Brother of the Snow and his friend?" she asked, stepping eagerly forward to the river bank.

"It is, and they are glad to see Manikawan," answered Bob.

"They will do now as Manikawan directs, and they will soon again be free to hunt the atuk (caribou), the amishku (beaver), and the neejuk (otter)," she promised.

With this she tied the ropes securely together, end to end, and then producing a quantity of salmon twine, which she had appropriated for the purpose from one of the tilts, tied an end of this to one end of the connected ropes. She now proceeded to coil the twine carefully upon a smooth flat rock at her feet, after which she drew from her quiver a long, blunt-nosed arrow, and directly above the feathered end of the arrow attached the loose end of the twine.

These preliminary arrangements completed, and her plan of rescue ready for the test, Manikawan stood erect, bow and arrow in position, and a moment later the arrow flew out across the water and fell upon the gravelly point.

Ungava Bob sprang forward, seized the twine, still fast tied to the arrow, and rapidly drew it and the end of the rope attached to the twine to him, while Manikawan played out the coil.

"Now," said she, "let White Brother of the Snow make the line which he has received fast and tight to the bow thwart of his canoe.

"White Brother of the Snow and his friend will then place their canoe into the water with its bow facing the river as it comes down to meet them. They will paddle hard against the river, for the Matchi Manitu (bad spirit) beneath the waves will draw them backward toward the place where the water is white and angry.

"They need not fear. Manikawan holds one end of the rope in her hand. The other end will be fast to the canoe. Manikawan is strong and she will not let the Matchi Manitu draw White Brother of the Snow and his friend down.

"While White Brother of the Snow and his friend paddle, their canoe will move toward the place where Manikawan stands. Near the shore the spirits are weaker than where the water is deep.

"When their canoe is near the shore, Manikawan will let it go backward very slowly to the place where the bank slopes."

Bob ran the end of rope under and around the bow thwart, as Manikawan directed, knotting it securely, leaving sufficient length to extend back to the centre thwart, around which he again wrapped it and finally tied the end. This he did in order that the strain upon the canoe might be more evenly distributed.

With Shad's rifle and shotgun and their few other possessions in the canoe, they immediately placed it in the water. Bob held it while Shad took a kneeling position in the stern, then himself stepped lightly to his place in the bow, and in an instant they were afloat in the rushing water, paddling fast and hard in order to relieve the stress upon the long line, and to keep the canoe head on to the current.

A few moments later they found themselves close under the mainland bank, with Manikawan letting them slip slowly down to the sloping rock.

Though the treacherous footing on the steep, slippery incline rendered it a hazardous undertaking, the landing was safely accomplished, and the canoe brought ashore.

When Manikawan saw the young adventurers standing before her, her work of rescue completed and the excitement and uncertainty of the preceding days and nights at an end, she sank upon the ground, weak, dazed, and overcome with fatigue.

During sixty hours her only sleep or refreshment had been that snatched the preceding morning in the tilt, and throughout the entire period she had been bending herself to almost superhuman effort.

After all, she was but a girl. Human emotions are pretty much the same the world over, irrespective of race, and Manikawan, the Indian maiden, was very human indeed in her emotions and the limit of her physical endurance.

She looked faint and weary, indeed, as Shad and Bob bent over her solicitously, but presently she indicated her desire to rise; and slowly, for Manikawan's exhaustion was still apparent, Bob led the way while the three took a direct course to the tilt on the first lake.

It was not far, and in the course of an hour, mounting a ridge, they saw the lake shimmering below them and the little tilt nestling among the trees on the shore.

"How good it looks! Almost homelike!" said Shad.

"Aye, almost homelike," echoed Bob.

At the tilt they made a fire under the trees, and Bob quickly brewed a kettle of strong tea, and prepared food; and when Manikawan had taken nourishment, she was sent into the tilt for the rest she so much needed.

Bob and Shad were still lingering over their meal when they looked up to find Dick Blake, Ed Matheson, and Bill Campbell staring at them from the edge of the woods.

"Hello!" cried Shad, jumping up in pleasure to greet their friends.

"Evenin'," said Bob; "set in an' have a drop o' tea an' a bite."

"Well, now, I wern't sure I see straight!" exclaimed Ed, and the three strode forward. "Here we was thinkin' never t' see you lads ag'in, an' arguin' who were goin' t' break th' news o' your death t' your folks, an' there you be, eatin'! Bob, I'm never goin' t' break th' news o' your death ag'in till I sees you dead. I were doin' it once, an' now I comes pretty nigh havin' to ag'in;" and Ed nearly shook Bob's arm off in his delight.

"Aye," Dick explained, while he and Bill followed Ed in the greeting, "th' Injun lass Manikawan comes an' tells us you lads was drove over th' falls by Mingens."

"An' we goes out huntin' Mingens," went on Bill, "tryin' t' kill un, an' would ha' killed un if we'd found un."

"Now, what devilment were she up to? That's what I wants t' know, tellin' us that. They's no knowin' what a Injun'll do, leastways a female," declared Ed.

"She was about right, now," said Bob, and he proceeded to relate the experiences of the preceding days, while Shad now and again interjected dramatic colour.

"Th' lass were doin' rare fine! Rare fine!" said Ed. "An' we was thinkin' she's up t' some devilment. But why wern't you shootin' at th' Injuns from th' canoe when they opens on you? Your repeatin' rifle would ha' scattered un, Bob."

"I left un in th' tilt by th' first lake above th' river. Shad were steerin', an' he weren't thinkin' t' use his'n," Bob explained.

"In th' first tilt above th' river?" Ed repeated. "We were in th' tilt, now, Dick, when we comes through, an'............