As they were starting out for the last time, a tall young Indian, with cheeks more plump than an Indian's usually are, shuffled along toward them on snow-shoes, drawing a long sled loaded with wood. He smiled good-naturedly when he saw them.
"Me Long Peter," said he,—"Chilkat Injun. Go with Mr. B'adford. You go with Mr. B'adford?"
"Yes," replied David, who concluded that this was the Indian his uncle had mentioned. So the three returned to camp together.
Savory odors were now wafted about from the camp-fire where Uncle Will was getting supper, and the boys hastened their work in order to be ready when he called. They succeeded in untangling the tent-ropes, and after a few mistakes and frequent examinations of the larger tent, their own little dwelling was set up near the other, on a soft bed of fragrant spruce. Then with a piece of soap and a towel from one of the clothing bags they went down to the water's edge to wash.
Presently Uncle Will shouted, "Muck-muck!" and the boys looked around inquiringly to see what he meant. "Supper-r!" he called in the same cheery tone. There was no mistaking the meaning of that, and the little party speedily gathered around the fire, where Uncle Will informed them that "Muck-muck" was the Indian term for "Something to eat," and was generally adopted on the trail as a call to meals.
The aluminum plates and cups were handed around, and Uncle Will distributed crisp bacon and potato and rice, while Mr. Bradford opened a box of hard-tack. David meanwhile made himself useful by filling the cups with coffee, and passing the sugar and condensed milk. As for Long Peter and Roly, finding nothing better to do, they attacked the viands at once with appetites sharpened by labor.
"I declare!" exclaimed Mr. Bradford, as soon as he too was ready, "I haven't been so hungry since I was a boy in the Adirondacks. What memories the smell of that bacon calls up!"
He took a seat on a log which Roly had drawn up before the fire, and presently called for a second helping.