"St. Michael."
"How long since ye left there?"
"Twelve sleeps."
"He means thirteen days."
Nicholas nodded.
"They couldn't possibly walk that far in—"
"Oh yes," says the Boy; "they don't follow the windings of the river, they cut across the portage, you know."
"Snow come—no trail—big mountains—all get lost."
"What did you go to St. Michael's for?"
"Oh, me pilot. Me go all over. Me leave N. A. T. and T. boat St. Michael's last trip."