“One good man, anyhow,” said Art, who overheard the observation. “Ol’ Dick an’ me had a li’l talk. I’m going to join up with the Mounted, too, when we git back. We been pals fifteen year.”
“Fifteen years,” exclaimed Frank. “In the wilderness all that time?”
Art nodded absently, his eyes on the retreating canoe.
“Sure,” said Art. “It’s home to us. Ain’t no wilderness. Cities is the real wilderness. Dick an’ me’s been separated now and then, like now, but we always come together agin. I expect when we git to be old men like some prospectors I seen we’ll be together all the time, fightin’ and jawin’ each other, but ready to tear the heart out o’ anybody that jumps one of us.”
“It’s a wonder Dick went off with MacDonald like he did, in that case,” said Jack.
“Huh. Somebody had to go. He knew we’d meet agin.”
Art said no more, but turned away to busy himself with the outfit.
Presently everything was in readiness for departure and then the two remaining canoes, with the outfit distributed between them, the three boys in one and the three men in the other, started up the lake in the opposite direction from that taken by MacDonald and Dick. Previously, when in pursuit of Lupo, Mr. Hampton had discovered the lake was of so considerable extent that, despite their hours of travel up the side, they had been unable to discern the farther end. In fact, the lake broadened out considerably some distance beyond the island. It was his intention, inasmuch as it followed the general northeastward direction they would pursue, to stick to it as long as possible. He believed there would be some stream at the farther end sufficiently large to float their canoes.
In this he was not mistaken, for after four hours of steady paddling, they discerned the outlet of a stream of considerable width, quartered across the lake and entered it. Almost immediately Jack called to his father, in surprise:
“Dad! Oh, Dad! This stream flows out of the lake; not into it. Do you notice?”