The trapper smiled. “May be,” he said to Tim, “we’ll find a good place and perhaps a spring, too. Everybody go slow now. Look out for snags, Bill, and let us land near the foot of that big ash.”
Within a few minutes all heavy packs were taken out of the canoe and the craft itself was turned over in a dry spot high above the water.
There was not only one spring, there were several coming out of the hillside and running into the small flooded creek.
“I knew we would find good water up this creek,” the trapper told the boys.
“How could you tell!” the lads wondered. “Have you ever been here?”
“No, I have never seen this place before, but I have seen many groves of black-ash and they only grow in cold, springy ravines. Wherever you see the slim gray trunks and the short spreading branches of black-ash you can find springs. Sometimes the flow is small and you have to dig out a little pool for your well, but good cool water always seeps and flows around the roots of the black-ash.”
Like every good leader, Barker had each man assigned to some special camp duty.
He himself was cook and baker. The Indian set up the tent and made the bed. Bill brought water and cut wood for the camp-fire, while Tim gathered dry brush and sticks for the cooking-fire and set out the dishes, which consisted of a tin cup and plate, knife, fork, and spoon for each man.
“We don’t need the tent,” Barker said to Tatanka. “It is not going to rain to-night and the miserable mosquitoes haven’t come yet. Just make a good bed on plenty of dry leaves and grass. The boys are very tired and we are all a little bit soft after our rather lazy winter.”
“What are we going to do if it rains?” Tim asked.