“I don’t hear them, anyway,” began Jesse, the youngest, who was, by nature as well as by years perhaps, not quite so bold and courageous as his two young friends.
“You couldn’t hear them very far,” replied Rob, “because they wear moccasins.”
“Do you think they really can get the canoes out, carrying them on their backs all the way from where we left them?” asked Jesse.
“They’re very strong,” Rob answered, “and that work isn’t new to them. And, you know, they carried all our packs in the same way.”
“That Moise is as strong as a horse,” said John. “My! I couldn’t lift the end of his pack here. I bet it weighed two hundred pounds at least. And he just laughed. I think he’s a good-natured man, anyhow.”
“Most of these woodsmen are,” replied Rob. “They are used to hardships, and they just laugh instead of complain about things. Alex is quieter than Moise, but I’ll venture to say they’ll both do their part all right. And moreover,” he added stoutly, “if Alex said he’d be here before dark, he’ll be here.”
“It will be in less than ten minutes, then,” said Jesse, looking at the new watch which his mother had given him to take along on his trip. “The canoe’s a pretty heavy thing, John.”
Rob did not quite agree with him.
“They’re not heavy for canoes—sixteen-foot Peterboroughs. They beat any boat going for their weight, and they’re regular ships in the water under load.”