“Him get well bimby.”
“But will he get his courage back, I mean?”
“Mebby, mebby not. Take um long time.”
“I suppose so, and it’s no wonder. A licking like that would take the starch out of most men, let alone a dog,” Rex declared.
“I don’t suppose it will be any use trying to get him to follow that trail,” Bob said as they were eating breakfast.
“No heap good now,” Kernertok assured them.
“How about the weather? Is it going to rain?” Jack asked turning to Kernertok.
“Heap much, heap soon. Wind northeast.”
“Then we’d better get off and make as many miles as we can before it comes,” Bob advised.
They made quick work of washing the few dishes they had used and in rolling the packs, and in less than twenty minutes they were ready to push off. Their way led up the little stream which was hardly wide enough to permit the use of the paddles, and in places they were obliged to push the canoe with a long pole against the strong current. But Kernertok encouraged them with the assurance that it was only a little over three miles to Churchill Lake.