“Upon my soul, I believe it is Sicum,” Jack declared a little later.
The Indian raised his paddle for a moment and a shrill, peculiar whistle floated over the lake.
“Hark,” he warned.
“It’s Sicum,” Bob and Jack spoke in the same breath as a low but distinct bark answered the Indian’s call.
“Now what do you know about that?” Rex asked as soon as all doubt regarding the identity of the animal was settled. “Where do you suppose he’s been and why?”
“Don’t know to both questions,” Bob replied.
Although the Indian gave no outward show of emotion, all three boys knew that the old man was overjoyed at the return of his companion. As for Sicum, he made no concealment of his emotions. As the canoe approached the rock on which he stood he jumped up and down in a perfect frenzy of joy, all the time giving utterance to short, happy barks. When the canoe at last touched the rock he nearly upset it as he leaped aboard.
“You one fool dog,” the Indian grunted as he seized him by his collar. “Where you been, eh?”
“If he could only talk he might clear up some of this mystery,” Rex declared.
“I wish he had brought my rifle back with him,” Jack laughed.