“Oh! you cannibal!” cried the horrified Josh. “Why, that poor little innocent looks just like a baby.”
“Yes,” retorted Nick, “your mother showed me your picture when you were six months old, and there is a close resemblance.”
Night came on, and there was no claimant, so Jocko ate supper with the boys. He was already making good friends, and seemed very well satisfied with his new lot. Perhaps he missed the cuffing and beating he was accustomed to; but he could do without that very well; and the eating must have appealed to him strongly.
In the morning they left soon after breakfast. The day opened fair, and they knew there was a long trip before them if they hoped to cross the head of Lake Huron, and follow the winding channel of the St. Mary’s river so as to reach Sault Ste. Marie by night.
Fortunately the breeze, what little there was, chanced to be in the north for a change. This allowed them to keep close to the southern shore of the peninsula for some hours, following its contour and avoiding the pounding that heavy seas always brought in their train.
Finally they entered the narrow strait between the mainland and big Drummond Island. Here the bustling port of Detour was passed. Nick hinted about going ashore and doing a little marketing; but Jack vetoed that proposition.
“Plenty of time to do all that after we get to the Soo tonight,” he observed; and Nick knew there was no appeal from his decision.
“Is that Canada over yonder?” asked Josh, pointing to the island off their lee.
“No, Drummond belongs to Michigan,” Jack replied. “Further on though, we’ll strike St. Joseph’s Island, and that is a part of Canada. So we’ll all step ashore just to say we’ve been outside the U. S. for once.”