“I don’t know. But we’ll soon find out.”
“Welcome, strangers,” said the other, a tall bronzed man, as they approached. “Just in time for a snack.”
He advanced to the water’s edge, and stood ready to help. Farnum’s appraising eye took in the approach. Shoal water and a sandy beach! He decided to drive the canoe up on the sands. Shipping his paddle, he leaped from the bow into the water, as the forefoot of the canoe grated lightly. Relieved of his weight, the canoe rose at the bow and sank at the stern under Mr. Hampton. Seizing the bow, Farnum ran it up on the beach, the uniformed man lending a hand. A moment later, Jack, who was in the bow of the boy’s canoe, repeated the maneuver. The two craft were drawn up side by side.
“MacDonald’s my name,” said the Canadian simply.
“Know Arkell of Dawson?” asked Farnum.
“Know him well,” said the other. “One o’ the best on the Force.”
“Friend of mine,” said Farnum.
The two clasped hands warmly. Then Farnum introduced Mr. Hampton and the boys. MacDonald led the way to a sheltered spot among the trees, where a fire burned.
“Just about to broil some fish,” he said. “Lucky there’s plenty. I’m crazy about fishing,” he continued, “and when they bit here I pulled out mor’n I could use. Was wonderin’ what to do with ’em when I heard your hail. Guess I don’t need to worry about that any longer.”
As he spoke he busied himself about preparations for dinner, and soon an appetizing odor of frying fish rose to assail the twitching nostrils of the hungry boys.