"That mining camp was situated on a creek, wasn't it?" asked Frank.
"Yes, I haven't forgotten that, and I see what you mean, Frank," the patrol leader assured him; "but it was only a narrow affair, and I figure on finding a fallen tree trunk that we could throw across to serve us as a bridge."
"Always a way where there's a will," chanted Teddy, as they once more started off, with the mist-shrouded bay on their right.
The going was not all that heart could have wished. Lots of obstacles arose to give them trouble, though as a rule these were of a minor character, and easily surmounted. In some places the land was inclined to be marshy, so that they were compelled to go back some distance in order to get around. Then, again, they found that the ground rose into rocky elevations, with the bay lapping their bases; and here again the scouts were put to more or less exertions, in order to keep moving toward the west.
On one of these elevations they paused for a brief rest. The fog held as densely as ever, and out there where the great body of salt water lay it was an utter impossibility to see any distance. A whole armada of vessels might be anchored, not half a mile from the shore, and no one be any the wiser for it.
"Is this the real Hudson Bay proper?" asked Frank, while they stood thus, recovering their breath, after the last climb.
"Well, it's the lower part of it," explained Ned, "and called James Bay. There are a great many islands to be run across in this section, and I've heard that seals have rookeries on some of them, if they haven't all been killed off."
"Well, we've seen seals and Polar bears and the big walrus—all in their native haunts, haven't we?" remarked Jimmy, turning to Frank, who with Ned had been on a long jaunt through Arctic ice floes some time before.
"And all of us stand a fair chance to see some more of the same, unless we get out of this country before the summer ends," Teddy chimed in.
"We'll find a way, all right," Jack told him; for it was always a hard thing to crush the spirit of the boy who could write such glowing accounts of trips and things for the readers of his father's big paper.