"You can't find any river in this country without fast water here and there," said Mr. Waterman. "The only difference is that some rivers have faster water than others. After I have seen you on the lakes awhile and have had the guides teach you a few things we'll take a try at some fast water and you'll think that there is no better sport than shooting a rapid."
"It must be great fun," said Bob.
Shortly afterwards, they struck the river and the road led up along the bank. It followed the windings of the river and it was slow work. Every now and then the driver yelled "Allons, Gi-may," and Bob racked his brain to think what "Gi-may" meant. At last it came to him in a flash. He turned to the driver and asked in French,
"Is the horse named Gi-may?"
"Oh, yes," said the driver. "He belongs to Monsieur MacPherson and he calls him Gi-may."
"Oh, you mean Jimmy," said Bob.
"But, yes, Gi-may," said the driver, and Bob had solved the riddle. He then told Mr. Waterman how he had tried to think what "Gi-may" meant, thinking at first that it meant something like "Allons" but that he had found out it was the horse's name.
It was getting dark when they came to the ford. Mr. Anderson yelled like an Indian and his call was answered by a real Indian yell. A moment later, two men appeared on the opposite bank.
"That's Joe and Pierre," said Mr. Waterman.
"How are we going to get across?" asked Pud.