Ganawa was, however, not at all pleased with Ray’s desire of keeping the dog. “We shall have to find food for him,” he said, “and we may have to be on our journey a long time. The country and the lake are very big, there are many islands and many rivers run into the Big Lake. Yes, my sons, very many rivers race and tumble into the Big Lake with much cold and noisy water. These rivers,” he continued after a pause, [[70]]“look very small on the maps which white men make of them and of the lake, but when you go to the place where they run into the lake, or when you try to cross them in the woods, you find that they are big rivers with swift currents. Some of them are big only at the time the snow melts in the forest on the hills, but some of them bring the water from many lakes and are big at all seasons even if no rain falls from the clouds for many moons.”
Ray had listened with only one ear, so to speak, to Ganawa’s talk on the many rivers that fall into Lake Superior.
“My father,” he replied timidly, “I could hunt for my dog. Maybe he will also eat fish and maybe he can catch rabbits for himself.”
“My son, he may do that,” Ganawa admitted, “but I am afraid he may upset our canoe and that he may bark at a time when he should keep still. It is hard to teach a dog anything after he has grown up.”
Both Ray and Bruce had to admit the [[71]]truth of these points, but now Bruce came to the assistance of his small brother by saying: “My father, let us try this dog. Some dogs lie still in a canoe and do not bark much. If this is not a good dog, we can leave him on the mainland, where there is more game and where he may find some Indian camp or make his way back to the traders at the Soo.”
“Bruce, I tell you something,” Ray spoke up when the two brothers were alone, “if you are going to leave my dog behind in the woods, I am going to stay behind, too.”
“Don’t talk foolish,” Bruce replied sharply. “Do you suppose I would leave you stranded in this wilderness with a half-wild dog? Remember you promised that you would do what I told you when I took you along. Can’t you understand that nobody would ever see your face again or even your bones, if you were set out on this wild shore? Remember that there are no white men on the whole shore from the Soo to the Michipicoten River, and Ganawa told us he [[72]]did not know of any Indians except at Batchawana Bay and at the mouth of the Michipicoten, and he was not sure that we should find any at the Michipicoten.
“Then you want to remember that travelling overland is not as easy as gliding along in a canoe. You would have to go up-hill and down-hill, over rocks and fallen timber, through swamps and across many streams. Don’t you remember what Ganawa said when I asked him how we could reach the Michipicoten? He smiled when I told him you and I should like to travel through the forest on an Indian trail and said: ‘My son, travelling on land to the Michipicoten would be very hard work. You could carry only your gun, one blanket and very little food, and your moccasins would wear out on the rocks. The black flies and the mosquitoes would eat you up and would not let you sleep. There is no trail from the Soo to the Michipicoten, because no Indians ever go that way on land. They always go in canoes on the lake. At night they camp [[73]]near the lake on shore or on an island where the cool air keeps away the black flies and the mosquitoes, and when the lake is stormy they camp till it is calm again.’ ”
“I did forget about the black flies and mosquitoes,” Ray admitted somewhat humbly, “but I don’t want to leave my dog. I am going to call him Tawny. Don’t you think that is a good name?”
“It is a good name for him,” Bruce agreed, “and I hope he will be a well-behaved dog in the canoe and in camp. Perhaps he will leave us of his own accord as soon as we camp on the mainland.”