“Legs,” I said laughing; “I don’t think we could manage a canoe.”
“No; but it would be wise to get your boxes as far up the country as you can, and that can only be by means of the Indians and one of their canoes.”
“But you would have to pay them.”
“Of course.”
“And would it be safe to trust them?”
“We shall see, my lad. But patience. They ought to have called this place New England. What a country and a climate for a man who could be content to settle down to a ranch and farm. There,” he continued, “I dare say you two want to have a chat. I shall be aft there if you wish to say anything to me.”
He was quite right. Esau was waiting to come up and talk, pointing out distant mountains, the islands we were passing, and the appearance of the land we were approaching, a place all mystery and interest to us now.
“I say,” he cried, “I’ve been talking to one of the men aboard here, and he says it will be easy enough to find Fort Elk; that we’ve only got to keep to the side of the river, and we shall be sure to get there some time.”
“Some time?” I said rather dismally. “When is that?”
“Oh, there’s no hurry,” cried Esau, enthusiastically. “It will be rare good fun going along by the river, and through the woods, with no one to interfere with you, and order you to copy this or write out that. But let’s get away from old Gunson as soon as we can.”