BOB MEETS THE ENEMY.
"We've got to camp pretty soon," Bob announced a little later, as it
began to get dark.
"What do you suppose those fellows will do when we stop?" Rex asked
anxiously.
"I reckon they'll stop too," Jack replied dryly.
"I don't like it at all," Bob shook his head.
"Him heap bad," Kernertok agreed.
"Well, we might as well land as soon as we come to a good place," Bob
declared. "They evidently intend to keep it up."
"Don't you think the four of us could handle them in a rough and
tumble?" Rex asked, as they paddled slowly along close to the shore.
"That all depends," Bob replied slowly. "So far as brute strength is
concerned any one of them could probably handle two of us, but as a rule
they don't know much about either boxing or wrestling."
"And it's a mighty good thing they don't," Jack broke in. "If some of
those fellows were properly trained they'd be world beaters."
Just as Jack spoke Bob saw a good place to land, and a moment later the
canoe was pulled up on the bank. When they landed the other canoe was
about a hundred feet behind them, and they all waited anxiously to see
what the half-breeds would do. They were not left long in doubt, for no
sooner did the men see their intention than they headed for the same
place, and, a few minutes later, landed only a little distance below.
"Let me do the talking," Bob said a moment later, as he saw that they
were coming toward them. "And don't let them see that we have revolvers,
unless I give the word."
The man who had done all the talking before was in the lead, and as soon
as he came near enough for the boys to see his face clearly, it was
evident that his temper had not improved.
"You no go back, non?" he snapped.
"It would be useless to deny it," Bob answered with a smile, which
seemed to madden the man still more.
"You know me, oui?" he asked.
Bob looked at the man closely for a full minute before speaking.
"No. I don't remember that I ever saw you before to-day."
"My name Jacques Harbaugh."
"Well?"
"You know mine broder, Pierre, oui."
It was a statement rather than a question.
"I have met him, yes."
"And you send heem to jail, you an' dat oder kid dar."
"Not guilty. He went to prison because he was smuggling whiskey."
"But you catch heem."
"I don't deny that we were instrumental in having him arrested," Bob
replied firmly.
"An' you beeg sneak."
"As you please about that. We all have a right to our opinion."
"Me Jacques Harbaugh. Me beeg fighter. No mans ever leek me."
"Interesting, if true," Bob smiled.
"Me geeve you one beeg licking, oui."
"That's as may be," Bob shrugged his shoulders.
"Me show you ver' queek."
"One moment," Bob held up his hand and the man stopped. "We are all
armed and know how to protect ourselves. But we don't want any more
trouble than is absolutely necessary. So if you must have a fight I'll
fight you on the condition that the others keep hands off. How about
it?"
The big half-breed looked at Bob, as Jack afterward declared, in much
the same way that Goliath must have looked at David when the latter came
out with his little sling. He stepped back and spoke with his companions
for a moment and Bob could see that they were laughing as though at a
huge joke.
"All right. We fight. Them no touch."
"Will they keep their word?" Rex whispered to Jack.
"No telling."
"Can Bob handle that big brute?"
"I've seen him handle as big a proposition and get away with it, but you
never can tell. If this guy happens to know much about boxing, it'll go
hard, but, as he said, not many of them do."
Meanwhile Bob and the half-breed had been stripping off their coats.
"Me spoil dat face in one leetle minute," Jacques taunted, as he stepped
forward.
"Well, it's all ready for the spoiling," Bob laughed in a way that
seemed to exasperate the half-breed, for he suddenly sprang forward and
aimed a vicious blow at Bob's face.
So sudden was the movement that it all but caught the boy off his guard
and he felt the wind as the man's fist shot by within an inch of his
nose. The man recovered his balance before Bob had time to get in a
blow.
"Nearly got me the first time," he declared with a smile.
"For goodness sake be careful," Jack cautioned.
He, as well as Bob, knew that should one of those sledge-hammer blows
land where it was aimed the fight would stop automatically. The
continuance depended on Bob's ability to dodge them.
But he was on his guard now and Jack knew that he would not be caught
napping a second time. The man rushed again, almost at once and, from
the way he handled himself, Jack saw that he possessed little if any
knowledge of scientific boxing.
"Bob can handle him all right, barring an accident," he whispered to
Rex.
This time the man had struck with even more force than at first, and the
momentum carried him off his balance. Before he could recover, Bob's
right fist had landed just back of his right ear. A loud grunt, more of
astonishment than of pain, followed the blow. The bully stepped back a
pace and glanced at his followers as if to ask what it was all about.
"Go on an' beat heem up," cried one of them. "Heem's only a kid."
As if ashamed of his indecision the man rushed back to the attack, and
for a time Bob had all he could to do to protect himself from the
avalanche of blows which were showered at him. The man's two arms were
working like piston rods, and so rapidly that the boy had no time to
even attempt to get in a blow.
"Hope he won't be able to keep that up very long," Jack whispered. "In
that kind of fighting there's always a possibility of a blow landing and
one of those punches, if it is struck fair, would pretty near stop a
train of cars."
"Him not got heap much wind," Kernertok declared, as he caught the sound
of the man's quick breathing.
"Why you no heet heem?" one of the other breeds shouted.
The man paused an instant.
"Why you no stand still an' fight?" he sneered.
"This suits me," Bob laughed. "Remember this is your fight."
Again the man rushed and once more he had his hands full to protect
himself. But he knew that the harder the man worked the sooner would
come the time when he could force the fighting. "Safety first," he
thought, as he dodged about.
"Bob's tiring him out," Jack whispered, as he listened to the heavy
breathing.
But the next second he gave a gasp of fear. In backing away from a
vicious rush Bob's heel had struck a root, and before he could recover
his balance, a blow had caught him on the chin and over he went.
A shout of encouragement came from the two half-breeds.
"Bon boy, Jacques! Jump on heem queek. You got heem."
But fortunately Bob's chin had been too far away to catch more than a
small fraction of the force of the blow, and he was not even dazed.
However, the breed was quick to take advantage of his opportunity, and
before Bob could scramble to his feet he was upon him.
Bob knew that his only chance now depended on his ability to prevent the
man from getting a hold. It required quick work, for the breed proved to
be better at wrestling than at boxing. Throwing himself upon the boy he
wrapped his arms about him in a hold that Bob had all he could do to
break. It was fortunate indeed for him that he knew nearly all the
important holds. Once the man got a grip on his neck, but it was quickly
broken and, exerting all his strength and skill, Bob managed to roll the
man over until he was on top. In another second he was on his feet.
"Good boy, Bob!" Jack shouted, jumping about in his excitement.
"Heap some boy," Kernertok grunted.
"I'll say he is," Rex agreed.
The breed, angered anew at the failure of his attempt, got more slowly
to his feet, and for a moment stood scowling at Bob. He was breathing
hard, and it was evident to the boy that he was not in the best of
physical condition. The easy life of the summer had softened his
muscles, and twenty or more pounds of surplus fat had shortened his
wind.
"Me geet you this time," he shouted, as he started toward him.
Evidently realizing that he was not in Bob's class when it came to
boxing, he had decided to change his tactics and made a lunge at him
with outstretched arms. Bob had little difficulty in eluding the grasp,
and succeeded in placing a stiff punch on his nose. The breed started
back with a grunt of pain and surprise, as the red blood gushed from his
nostrils.
"First blood for Bob!" Jack shouted.
"Me keel you for dat," the man shouted, now maddened beyond control.
"Look out for his foot!" Jack shouted.
But Bob was on the watch for just that move, and as the breed kicked, he
stepped back and caught the foot as it was at its highest point. The man
fell on his back, the wind knocked entirely out of his body.
At that moment one of the other breeds stepped forward.
"You keep out of this," Jack said sternly, as he drew his automatic from
his pocket.
On seeing the gun the breed stepped quickly back.
"This was to be a fair fight with no interference," Jack told him.
For a minute or two the fighter lay writhing on the ground in an effort
to regain his breath. As he struggled to his feet a look of astonishment
mingled with one of fear was on his face. He could not understand why
Bob had not finished him when he had him helpless.
"Had enough?" Bob asked pleasantly.
The man glanced at his companions and then at the automatic in Jack's
hand.
"I'll put the gun back," Jack said quickly, as he caught the glance.
"There will be no use made of it so long as your friends play fair."
"How about it?" Bob asked again.
The man still hesitated.
"Take your time. I'm in no hurry."
But the fall had knocked the fight as well as the wind out of the bully,
and muttering something which the boys failed to catch, he slouched off
toward his canoe, followed by the other two.
"Did he hurt you any?" Jack asked anxiously, as soon as they were out of
hearing.
"Nary a scratch," Bob laughed, as he drew on his coat.
"Well, you've got about the biggest nerve I ever saw," Rex declared, as
he held out his hand.
"It's not so much nerve as you think," Bob explained. "You see, these
fellows don't know how to use their strength when it comes to fighting
along scientific lines. Most all of them rely entirely on their
strength, and a fellow who knows the rules can handle them easily
enough."
"It listens good the way you say it," Rex declared, shaking his head,
"but excuse me, and I know a little about boxing myself."
"You could handle one of them," Bob assured him, but Rex again shook his
head.
"Just the same I hope we've seen the last of them," he said, as he
watched the three men shove off their canoe and paddle slowly away up
the river.
"That is a consummation devoutly to be desired," Bob said slowly, "but
I'm very much afraid that--"
"That the consummation won't be consummated," Jack interrupted.
"Don't you know that it is very impolite for small boys to interrupt
their elders," Bob turned to his brother with a look of mock severity on
his face. "How many times have I told you that children should be seen
and not heard?"
"You mean you think they'll come back?" Rex asked anxiously.
"Mebby," Bob nodded.
"To-night?"
"Quien Sabe?"
"Seems to me there are several loose ends to this problem," Jack
declared some time later, as supper, having been finished, they sat
around the camp fire.
"Meaning?" Rex asked.
"Well, in the first place we're not at all sure that the guy we're after
is within a thousand miles of here. Then there's that funny business of
the big tracks, the likes of which no mortal man ever saw before, and
the stealing of the rifle. And now those breeds are to be reckoned with.
The big question is whether they just happened to meet us or had been
after us."
"Is that all?" Bob smiled.
"I should think that was enough."
"Mebby."
"Mebby what?" Jack asked.
"Oh, just mebby," Bob laughed.
"Well, it seems that eternal vigilance is the price of safety up here on
this trip, so I suppose it means that we keep watch again to-night, eh?"
Rex asked, as he threw more wood on the fire.
"Right you are, son," Bob replied.
But the night passed without incident, so far as they were aware. Again
they watched by twos, but in spite of all their care the now familiar
tracks were once more to be seen on the bank of the river in the
morning.
"What-do-you-know-about-that?" Jack asked, as he gazed at the imprints.
"I'd take my oath that nothing moved round here while I was on watch."
"How's Sicum?" Bob turned to the Indian as he asked the question.
"Sicum, him big fool dog yet."
"But he's getting better, isn't he?"
"Some, but heap slow."
"Suppose he'd track that thing?"
Kernertok shook his head: "We try um. Here, Sicum, you smell um track."
But the dog only whined, and with his tail between his legs, slunk away
from the tracks.
"Never mind, old fellow. We understand that it isn't your fault," and
Bob, kneeling down, took the dog's head between his hands and looked
into his eyes.
The dog whined and eagerly licked his hand, as if fully appreciating the
sympathy.
"He'll come around in time," Bob assured them. "Remember, he saved our
lives once," he added with a glance toward Jack.
"And he deserves our thanks and care if he never does another thing so
long as he lives," Jack declared, but Kernertok only shook his head
sadly.
It was midafternoon when Rex, who at the time, was paddling in the bow,
lifted his paddle and asked:
"What's that roaring noise?"
"Him heap big falls," Kernertok replied.
"Can we shoot them?"
"No. Have mak' carry."
The boys noticed that for some time the current had been growing swifter
as the river narrowed. The banks on either side were very steep and from
ten to thirty feet high.
"We land right round this curve," Kernertok told them, as they
approached a sharp bend in the river. "No other place before falls."
"Which side?" Rex shouted.
"Right."
As the canoe swept around the bend it was traveling at a speed of some
fifteen miles or more an hour. The roar of the falls could now be
plainly heard. Rex caught sight of the landing place, a narrow strip of
sand between two large rocks, and dug his paddle into the water to turn
the bow toward it. How it happened, he could never tell, but the paddle
slipped from his hands just as he had the canoe headed for the shore. He
made a frantic effort to recover it, nearly upsetting the boat, but the
swift water whirled it away.
So quickly did it happen that the canoe swung around parallel with the
shore before Jack, who was in the stern, realized what had happened.
"Dig into her, Jack boy," Bob shouted.
But even as he spoke they all heard a loud snap above the rush of the
water. Bob turned his head, his heart in his throat. Jack's face was as
white as chalk, as he held up the end of the broken paddle.
"God help us!" Bob groaned.
The canoe was nearly in the middle of the stream, which at this point is
about sixty feet wide, and now was rushing with the speed of a race
horse toward the falls, not more than a hundred rods away.
"Shall we try to swim it?" Rex shouted in a voice which was strangely
calm.
"No can do," Kernertok shouted back.
The boys realized the truth of the statement, as they glanced down at
the swirling water.
"I wonder if this is the end," Bob thought, as he gripped the sides of
the canoe.
"Do we have a chance, Kernertok?" Jack shouted.
"God know," the old Indian answered, so low that only Bob caught the
words.
"Cling on tight," Bob shouted, as the bow seemed to pause on the very
brink of the falls where the water fell to the pool some twelve feet
below.
So rapidly were they moving that the canoe seemed fairly to shoot off
the top of the falls before it fell. Then down it dropped like a stone.
As the canoe hit the water, Bob, who was sitting in the middle, tried to
keep it on an even keel, but the weight carried it beneath the surface.
As the water closed over his head he kicked himself free and struck out.
But some unseen force seemed to be pulling him down. Struggle as he
might, it seemed impossible to shake off the grip of the whirlpool. But
with dogged determination he fought and finally, just as it seemed as
though his lungs seemed on the point of bursting, his head emerged from
the water. Shaking the water from his eyes he glanced about him. He was
only a few feet from the rocky shore, and in another minute his feet
touched bottom. He was safe, but where were the others?
He stood waist deep in the water gazing over the surface of the pool.
Was that a head over there close under the falls? As he watched the
object moved slowly and soon the form of the Indian rose from the water.
"Me on heap big rock," he shouted as he caught sight of Bob.
"Where's Jack and Rex?" Bob shouted back.
"Me no see um."
"I'm all right," a voice shouted from the opposite side.
It was Rex, and he waved his arms as he caught sight of Bob.
"Seen Jack?" Bob shouted at the top of his voice.
"No; haven't you?"
Before Bob could answer Kernertok pointed down the stream. Bob followed
his gesture and saw, some twenty feet from where he was standing, a
small object moving slowly through the water.
"It's Sicum," he shouted.
"Him got something in him mouth," Kernertok cried, still pointing.
Bob could see that the dog was tugging at something, and he quickly
waded down to meet him.
"He's got Jack," he gasped as he reached the struggling dog.
Bob saw at once that his brother was unconscious, and fear that he might
be dead gripped his heart as he laid him tenderly down on the sand.
Blood was oozing from a cut at the back of the head, and Bob shuddered
as he knelt and placed his ear over the heart.
"Don't tell me that he's dead," Rex, who had crossed over some rocks a
short distance below the falls, cried as he came running up.
"I--I can't feel his heart beat," Bob groaned, as he turned the boy over
onto his stomach.
"Him hurt heap bad?" Kernertok panted, as he joined them.
"I'm afraid so," Bob replied, as he placed his hands beneath Jack's body
and slowly raised him up.
A quantity of water ran from the boy's mouth, and Bob repeated the
movement as long as there was any result. Then turning him onto his back
he said, "Now we'll have to try artificial respiration. If we only had a
pulmotor."
Slowly he raised and lowered his arms, but the boy lay as dead. Rex and
Kernertok stood with bowed heads, watching for the first sign of
returning life.
"Come, Jack boy, you must come," Bob repeated over and over again, as he
continued the movement.
His heart began to grow faint when fully half an hour had passed, and
still the boy gave no sign of life.
"I won't give up," Bob declared over and over, as he redoubled his
efforts. "God won't let him die."
Rex had several times tried to make Bob let him relieve him, but he
steadily refused and he could only kneel by his side and watch his face
and pray.
"He's coming, Bob," he whispered suddenly, as he noticed a faint tinge
of color in the boy's cheeks. "Easy now."
Rex placed his ear on Jack's breast.
"He's breathing," he announced, as he raised his head.
"Thank God," Bob cried, as he began the movements again. "Where's
Kernertok?"
"I don't know. Haven't seen him for some time, but I didn't notice it."
"It's funny where he's gone."
The color in Jack's cheeks slowly increased, and his breathing became
deeper and more regular. Soon his eyes opened and he groaned.
"Jack boy," Bob cried.
"Bob."
The whisper was so faint that Bob hardly heard it, but never had any
sound seemed sweeter.
At that moment Kernertok emerged from the deep woods behind them. He was
rubbing something in his hands as he ran towards them.
"Him heap better?"
"Yes, thank God, he's come to," Bob replied.
"Heap good," the Indian bowed his head and the boys saw his lips move.
Soon Jack again opened his eyes and smiled as he glanced about him.
"White boy chew," Kernertok ordered, as he knelt beside him and forced
something between his teeth. "Injun had heap big hunt before find it,"
he said, looking up at Bob.
At first Jack's jaws moved but slowly, but as his strength began to
return, he chewed faster.
"That heap good," the Indian declared, as he put more of the crushed
leaves in the boy's mouth.
Rex was astonished at the rapidity of Jack's recovery, but Bob, who knew
something of the medicine which Kernertok had found, took it more as a
matter of course. It was not long before Jack was able to sit up.
"How'd I get out?" he asked.
"If it hadn't been for Sicum--" Bob began, but Rex interrupted him.
"Look at the dog," he cried.
Sicum stood a few feet away wagging his tail violently, a thing he had
not done since he had been beaten. It was the first time Bob had thought
of the dog, and now he sprang toward him, and taking his shaggy head in
his arms, he hugged him to his breast. Sicum accepted the caress with a
low whine.
"Good old boy," Bob whispered. "If it hadn't been for you Jack would
have been a goner for sure that time."
Sicum wagged his tail as much as to say he understood.
Jack's recovery was rapid, and they found that the cut on his head was
slight, although it bled freely for a time.
"I remember feeling a bang on the back of my head just after I went
under, and that was the last I knew until I saw you bending over me,"
Jack told them. "But who pulled me out?"
"Your rescuer is standing there wagging his tail," Bob told him,
pointing to the dog.
"You mean he pulled me out?"
"Just that."
"And in saving your life, I really believe he has gotten back his old
self again," Rex added.
"Jimminy crickets, but I'll bet you're right," Jack declared. "Just look
at him."
It was a fact that the dog had lost all sign of his recent behavior, and
as Jack spoke to him he bounded to him and nearly knocked him over in
his eagerness.
"Good old fellow," Jack said, as he patted his head. "Perhaps I'll be
able to return the compliment some day."
"Wonder what's become of the canoe," Rex said.
"That's so; first I've thought of it," Bob added.
They all looked about the pool beneath the falls, but no canoe in sight.
"Would it stay down?" Rex asked.
"Not likely," Bob replied.
"Her no stay down, no get caught on rock," Kernertok confirmed Bob's
opinion.
"What's that sticking up just around that point?" Rex asked, pointing to
a place a little below them, where a point of land jutted out into the
stream.
"Wait a minute and I'll see," Bob said, as he started toward the point.
"Here she is--what is left of her," he shouted a moment later.
All except Jack, who was still too weak to move around much, hurried to
the place. It was evident that the canoe, having risen to the surface,
had been carried down until, caught in the little eddy, it had been
whirled onto a sharp pointed rock, which had pierced the bottom near the
bow. It was out several feet from the shore.
"Just a minute and I'll have her in," Bob said, as he waded out into the
stream.
"I don't think she's damaged so much after all," he said, as he pulled
it up onto the shore. "But every bit of our stuff is gone."
"That heap bad," Kernertok shook his head sadly.
"I'll say it is," Bob agreed. "Here we are, miles from nowhere and
nothing to eat. Oh, we won't starve," he added quickly, as he saw the
look of alarm on Rex's face.
"Suppose we look around and see if we can't find some of the stuff," the
latter proposed.
"Afraid it's not much use, but we'll try."
But although they hunted for some distance down the stream on both
banks, they found nothing.
"That whirlpool at the foot of the falls has probably held it down as I
thought," Bob said ruefully. "I suppose it was knocked out of the canoe
when it struck. If it hadn't been it might have held the canoe down
too."
"No loss without some gain," Rex declared, trying to speak cheerfully.
They lifted the canoe from the water and carried it back to where they
had left Jack.
"Guess you'll get a taste of real roughing it," Bob said to Rex, as they
placed the canoe on the ground bottom up.
"Reckon I can stand it if the rest of you can," Rex smiled.
"You're game all right," Bob assured him.
"Let's take an account of stock and see what we've got," Jack proposed.
"That heap good," Kernertok nodded his head. "Mebby we got much, mebby
not."
"I'm afraid the mebby not has it," Bob said a moment later, after they
had all searched through their pockets. "Still it might be worse."
Each of them had a jack knife and Kernertok a small hatchet, which he
usually carried strapped in his belt. The boys had their automatics, but
all the ammunition save what was in the guns was lost. Bob had a
water-proof match-safe containing a dozen matches and Jack found a short
fish line and three hooks. That was all that they felt would be of any
help to them.
"Well, if Jack Knowles could live six weeks in the Maine woods with
absolutely nothing but his bare hands to depend on, I reckon we'll make
out," Bob declared optimistically.
"It's a cinch," Jack agreed.
"Whatever you say goes here," Rex added.
It was decided that Kernertok should set to work at once repairing the
canoe.
"How about paddles?" Rex asked.
"Injun make um," Kernertok assured him.
"It looks as though there might be some raspberries over there on the
other side," Bob pointed to a small clump of bushes a short distance
back from the edge of the river. "If you'll make a birch bark basket and
see if you can find any I'll see what I can do with this fish line."
"Righto."
"And what am I to do?" Jack asked.
"You lay right where you are for the present," Bob commanded.
In spite of his protests that he was all right, neither Bob or Rex would
hear to his attempting to do any work, and after some argument he agreed
to wait till he was stronger.
"It's all bosh though," he growled, as he leaned back against a tree and
threw his arms about Sicum.
Rex went off in search of a birch tree and Bob after cutting a stout
alder pole and fastening the line to it, began to dig under a stone,
which he turned over, for angle worms. He had nothing but a stick with
which to dig and the worms were, as he told himself, scarcer than hens'
teeth. But after nearly a half hour of persistent work he succeeded in
getting six small worms.
"Be careful of that line," Jack cautioned him. "A whole lot depends on
it."
"Don't I know it," he grinned, as he started off down the river.
He soon reached a promising looking place and, scrambling on to a large
rock, he carefully lowered the hook into the water.
"Hope I don't hook onto one of Jack's whales," he thought. "I'm afraid
it would be good-bye line."
Just then a sharp tug informed him that he had hooked onto something,
and he pulled out a trout weighing a little over a pound. Each of the
six worms served as well as the first, and in a few minutes he started
back with six fish, all about the same size.
"We won't go to bed hungry to-night at any rate," he told Jack, as he
held up the trout for his inspection. "Although," he added, "our bill of
fare will be pretty limited."
"Reckon we can stand it," Jack assured him.
Neither of the others had returned and Bob started to clean the fish.
Kernertok returned just as he had finished, carrying birch bark and
pitch, and a little later Rex came with nearly two quarts of large
raspberries.
"Glad you didn't get lost, old man," Bob told him.
"You bet, I kept my eye on that tall tree there," Rex laughed. "I see
you got some fish."
"Fish and raspberries for supper to-night," Bob said.
"And enough is as good as a feast," Rex laughed.
"We've got to be mighty sparing of these matches," Bob said, as he
gathered some dry leaves for a fire.
"How are you going to cook without anything to cook with?" Rex asked,
after Bob had the fire going.
"If all our problems were as easy as that, I wouldn't worry a bit," he
replied, piling on more wood. "One thing we aren't short of and that's
wood."
Bob found a place near the falls where there was a small amount of clay,
and he soon had enough for his purpose.
"Going to make mud pies?" Rex laughed, as he saw him mixing the clay
with water.
"Just that," Bob laughed, as he smeared the clay over the fish until
each one was incased in the mud. "We're going to have trout served a la
mud," he declared.
Waiting until the fire had burned to a good bed of coals he dug a hole
in the very center of them and buried the fish in it.
"I'm afraid they won't be very good though without salt," Bob said
ruefully, as he raked away the coals a little later.
"Injun got salt."
"You have?"
"Injun never go way in big woods no salt," and he took from his pocket a
small water-tight box. "Get long no have most anything, no get long no
salt."
"You're right there," Rex agreed. "Most things taste pretty flat without
salt."
By the time supper was ready Kernertok had the hole in the canoe
repaired.
"Your mud pies are a great success, Bob," Rex declared, after he had
taken his first taste of the trout. "I never tasted anything quite so
good as these."
"Hope you won't get sick of them before we get out of the woods."
As soon as he had eaten Kernertok announced that he was going to find
material out of which he could make paddles.
"There's no great loss without some gain," Bob declared, after the
Indian had gone.
"What's the gain?" Jack asked.
"Bet I can guess," Rex laughed.
"Give you two guesses."
"Only need one. There are no dishes to wash."
"Right the first time."