Their clothing was far from dry, but they were afraid to delay longer. None of them felt like trying to wade up the rapid again, and so they carried the canoe round it. At the head of the portage they cut several strong poles to use in places where they could not paddle.
They soon found that without the poles they could hardly have made any progress at all; and even with them they moved very slowly. About noon they landed, broiled and ate a small piece of venison, and after a brief rest set out on their journey again.
By five o'clock they were all dead tired, wet, and chilled, and Mac and Fred were ready to stop. Horace, however, urged them to push on. He felt that perhaps the beaver trappers were not many miles behind. After another day or two, he said, they could take things more easily, but now they ought to hurry on at top speed.
Just before they were ready to land in order to make camp, three ducks splashed from the water just in front of the canoe. Fred managed to drop one of them with each barrel of the shot gun. Thus the boys got their supper without having to draw on their supply of venison; but the roasted ducks proved almost as tough as rawhide and, without salt, extremely unpalatable. But they were all so hungry that they devoured the birds almost completely; they put the heads into the willow cage, but the foxes would not touch them.
For three hours more they pushed on up the river, tired, silent, but determined. At last it began to grow dark. The boys had reached the limit of their endurance, for they had had no sleep the night before. They landed and built a fire. It was hard work to get enough wood without the axe, but fortunately the night was not cold.
Exhausted as the boys were, they knew that one of them would have to stand watch to see that the foxes did not gnaw their way out of the cage, and that the trappers did not attack the camp. They drew lots for it; Macgregor selected the short straw and Fred the long one, and they arranged that Mac should take the watch for two hours, then Horace, and lastly Fred.
The mosquitoes were bad, and there were no blankets, but Fred seemed to go to sleep the moment he lay down on the earth. He did not hear Horace and Mac change guard at midnight, and it seemed to him that he had scarcely done more than close his eyes when some one shook him by the arm.
"Wake up! It's your turn to watch!" Horace was saying.
Half dead with sleep, Fred staggered to his feet. Moonlight lay on the forest and river.
"Take the rifle," said Horace. "There's not been a sign of anything stirring, but keep a sharp eye on the foxes."