They turned in early, and, for the first time since their arrival, the boys failed to hear the flying squirrels scampering about above them. They spoke to Ben about it, and he said it had become too cold for the little night prowlers.
VII
A VISIT TO THE BEAVERS
The boys were up early; but Bill and Moze had already gone. They ate breakfast by lamplight, a new experience. The guide explained that they had a long journey to make.
Daylight was just dawning when they took their places in the canoe and pushed from shore. Ben paddled leisurely down the lake, with Ed in the bow and George amidships. Ed had his shotgun across his knees, and George sat with his rifle by his side. They were armed for any sort of game. Ben paddled noiselessly. The young hunters sat quietly in their places, their eyes riveted on the shadowy shore-line, eager to see big game. Once a flock of crows flew noisily overhead. Again some squirrels barked far back in the forest. Otherwise all was still.
By the time the sun had climbed over the mountains, they had reached the end of the lake. Here they were obliged to make a portage to another body of water about a mile distant. They landed, pulled the canoe up on shore, and unloaded the guns and a few cooking utensils. George also carried the camera slung on a strap from his shoulder.
MAKING A PORTAGE (By courtesy of the Outing Publishing Co.)
To the surprise of the boys, Ben hoisted the canoe on his shoulders and walked off with it. They fell in behind him in single file. Ed carried the two guns, and George the cooking things in a bag on his back.
There was a well-marked trail extending from the water, and Ben followed slowly along its winding course. He pointed to little square patches on the tree-trunks, from which the bark had been peeled. He said they were “blazes,” made to show the trail, especially in winter when the snow was deep.