“He must have been feeding somewhere below,” said Rob, “and I suppose heard us talking. He ran up that bank pretty fast. I didn’t know it was so hard to shoot from a moving boat. Anyhow, I didn’t get him.”
“He’ll was too far off,” said Moise. “But those boy she’ll shoot right on his foot all the time. I think she’ll hit him there.”
“Never mind, Mr. Rob,” said Alex. “We’ve got plenty of river below us, and we’re sure to see more bear. This river is one of the best countries for black bear there is this side of the Hay or the Liard.”
Both boats proceeded at a leisurely pace for the remainder of this stage, no one being anxious to complete the journey to the Peace River Landing any earlier than was necessary, for the journey down the river was of itself interesting and pleasant. All the landscape continued green, although it was late in the summer. The water, however, was now less brilliant and clear than it had been in the mountains, and had taken on a brownish stain.
They encamped that night at a little beach which came down to the river and offered an ideal place for their bivouac. Tall pines stood all about, and there was little undergrowth to harbor mosquitoes, although by this time, indeed, that pest of the Northland was pretty much gone. The feeling of depression they sometimes had known in the big mountains had now left the minds of our young travelers, and they were disposed, since they found themselves well within reach of their goal, to take their time and enjoy themselves.
“Moise, tell us another story,” demanded Jesse, after they had finished their evening meal.
“What kind of story you’ll want?” inquired Moise.
“I think we’d rather have something about your own country, about animals, the same as you told us back in the mountains, perhaps.”
“Well,” said Moise, “I’ll told you the story of how the ermine he’ll got the end of his tail black.”