By and by he brought another Indian of his own age, even darker in color and more taciturn.
“This George,” said he, “my cousin. I am mos’ bes’ grizzlum-hunter at Tête Jaune. George is mos’ bes’ man on boat.”
“And Moise is the most best cook,” said Uncle Dick, laughing. “Well, it looks as though we’d get along all right. But, since you accuse me of always being in too big a hurry, I’ll agree to camp here for the night. Boys, you may unroll the packs. Leo, you may get us that mosquito-tent I left with you last year.”
XVIII
SOUTHWARD BOUND
The boys all had a pleasant time visiting around the Indian village, and enjoyed, moreover, the rest after their long ride on the trail. On the morning of their start from Tête Jaune Cache they went to look once more at the boats which were now to make their means of transportation.
“I think they’ll be all right,” said Rob. “They’re heavier than the ones we had on the Peace River, and the sides are higher. You could put a ton in one of these boats and she’d ride pretty safe in rather rough water, I should say.”
“I’ll bet we’ll think they weigh a ton when we try to carry them down to the river,” said Jesse. “But I suppose there’ll be plenty of men to help do that.”