While Roly was describing how the Thirty-six had been distanced on the summit, two Indian women entered and addressed the storekeeper in the native language, with which he seemed perfectly familiar. He rose, and going behind the counter, weighed out some salt, answering meantime a number of questions which seemed to have reference to the boys, at whom the women glanced occasionally.
"They wanted to know all about you," said Ike, when his customers had gone. "They belong to Lucky's family. Your uncle knows Lucky, don't he?"
"Yes," said David. "Uncle Will took care of him when he was shot. Is he well again?"
"Oh, yes! Off trapping now somewhere in the woods. He's a shrewd one, that Lucky. Brings in more furs than any other man in the tribe. He's a tall, wiry chap, with big cheek-bones an' little foxy eyes, an' the reg'lar Indian virtues an' vices. He's brave, an' he's enduring, an' a splendid hunter, but he's sly an' lazy. Little Coffee Jack, his brother, is going to be just like him."
"There's Father calling us," said David, presently. "They probably want water. Where do you get it, Mr. Martin?"
"You'll find a hole cut in the river ice," answered the storekeeper, "if you follow the path straight out from the door. You can't miss it. You want to be careful, though."
Having procured kettles at the camp, the boys easily found the path, and the hole to which it led. So great was the combined thickness of snow and ice that the opening was about five feet deep, wide at the top, but narrowing toward the bottom. A sort of shelf or ledge had been hacked out about half-way down, upon which the person drawing the water could stand, and as an additional safeguard a pole had been set horizontally across the hole. So rapid was the current that the water did not rise in the hole, but fairly flew beneath it.
"I don't wonder Mr. Martin told us to be careful," said David, with a shudder. "One slip on that icy ledge, and down you'd go into the dark water and under the ice in a jiffy."
"Just think," observed Roly, "if Mr. Martin had ever fallen like that when he was here alone, no one would ever know what had become of him. The hole would soon get filled up, and his disappearance would be the kind of a mystery you read about. Probably the Indians would be suspected."
"Yes," said David, "I've no doubt of it. But now let's get the water. You stand up here, and I'll do the dipping. You see," he added, concealing with an air of mock pride the real responsibility he felt, "superior age makes it my duty to take the post of danger,"—with which heroic burst he scrambled quickly but carefully down and filled the kettles without accident, though they were nearly jerked from his hands by the force of the current. It is safe to say, however, that had Uncle Will known the dangerous character of the water-hole, which only Long Peter had visited on his earlier trip, he would have fetched the water himself.