So convincing were the tones in which the man clothed his words that the spirits of the boys were quickly stirred from gloomy anticipations to comparative cheerfulness.
"You've lifted a load from my mind, Mr. Mackintosh," Bob said gratefully, "for of course it is all fairly plain now. As likely as not they passed through that horrible gully, but were too worn out yesterday to start the trudge back to camp. It would be a long way, too, seeing how the river winds."
"In that case, most likely they are back at the camp by this time," suggested Alf. "But they would understand our being away, for they would find the note that we pinned to the tent."
"That's right, laddies. Look for the bright side and you'll always find it," the Scotsman remarked. "But I'm thinking that your reasoning is a wee bit oot in one respect—they have no' gone back yet, else Haggis or I would have seen them. This camp is in the direct natural path from that part o' the Athabasca. My opeenion is that they've fallen in with the Indians—a tribe o' Dacotahs, and peaceable folk they are. It's no' to be expected that the gully could be passed unscathed. So it's likely to me that they're nursing themselves for a day wi' the redskins, after, maybe, sending a brave to your camp to tell you o' it. So to-morrow we'll lose no time in starting for Silver Lake. That's the best plan I can think o'."
"You mean to come with us?" asked Alf.
"What do you take me for—a savage?" was the reproachful return. "Do you think that Skipper Mackintosh is going to allow twa laddies like you to go wandering aboot the backwoods when he can guide you? And when Skipper fails, is there no' the Haggis and Bannock—a pair o' the finest scouts and trackers that ever set foot in bush or prairie? What do you take me for, I'd just like to know?"
"One of the kindest hearts in the world, Mr. Mackintosh," said Bob fervently.
"Bah! Fiddlesticks and porridge-sticks!" was the rough rejoinder, though a pair of eyes were turned kindly enough upon the youths—eyes that glistened in a way that rather suggested the nearness of water. "All a pack o' nonsense! If a man is no' ready to help his fellow-creatures when they need him—well, I'm thinking that he ought to have a pin stuck through his thorax and mounted in a box among my moths, labelled, 'A horrible freak o' Nature.' And I'd have you know, too, that my name is Mackintosh—Skipper Mackintosh. There's no 'Misters' in the backwoods. 'Skipper' is the name that my auld faither gave me to commemorate his discovery o' a new variety of skippers in the entomological world. Mind that, and—and good-night to you, laddies. Good-night, and God bless the pair o' you."