Amos was a real Michigan boy. He had been in logging camps ever since he was “knee high to a grasshopper,” as he always said; and was as tough as a pine-knot, so far as physical endurance went. Teddy had known him several years; and once before they had hunted in company around this very region. While the lumberman’s son and his friend from Cincinnati laid out this summer trip with pack and paddle through the pine woods of the upper reaches of the Wolverine State, Teddy had suggested hiring Amos to go along, not exactly in the nature of a guide, nor yet as a cook, but simply for company. And knowing that when far away from civilization two boys are apt to find it a bit lonely, Dolph had readily agreed.
He had heard his friend tell more or less about the natural ability Amos possessed as a doctor; and that it was the ambition of his life to later on take a regular course in some medical school. And Teddy had also confided to Dolph the fact that he meant to coax his father to see that the woods boy had his chance, when he reached an age to allow of such a thing; because he would make a fine doctor some day, as his whole heart was set on curing ailments, binding up wounds, and alleviating pain.
So it came that there were three of them in the party, with two canoes instead of just one overcrowded boat. Most of the duffle, such as the tent and the blankets, they usually stored in this one canoe, with a single occupant to ply the paddle, while the other two campers took charge of the second craft.
They had laid out a regular course, which would take them through the wildest part of the country of the peninsula, starting in at Manistique on the southern shore, where the waves of Lake Michigan beat the sandy strand, and following the winding, picturesque river up to the lakes that were said to be its source. At this point they expected to find some man who had a team capable of taking their light canvas canoes across country, until beyond the railroad they could be launched in the waters of the Tahquamanon river; following which to its mouth would bring the adventurous cruisers into the celebrated White Fish Bay of Lake Superior; and here they could skirt the shore until finally they arrived at Saulte Ste. Marie, where the waters of Superior rush down the mighty rapids into St. Mary’s river, thence through Lakes Huron, Erie and Ontario, and afterwards being carried along the mighty St. Lawrence river to the sea.
It was a noble trip to lay out, and the three boys had already spent some time making their way to the point where we find them passing a night on the bank of the river, at the time the wildcats invaded their camp, and produced such consternation, although paying dearly for their fun.
“Now come and take a look at your prize, Dolph!” Teddy called out, “and then it’s back to my downy for me; because I’m shaking all over, like a jelly-fish.”
He dragged the now defunct lynx out nearer the still blazing fire, so that the others could look it over.
“Ugh! I’m right glad now that root tripped me up,” remarked Dolph. “Only for that, those claws might have ripped me considerably before the beast keeled over.”
“I should say, yes,” chuckled Teddy. “And now excuse me, please, but I’m in for the grand disappearing act. I’ll chuck that fine ham inside the tent as I go. Better follow my example, Dolph, if you don’t want to catch cold. Get your gun to work yet?”
“Why, yes, it seems to; but I’m rather discouraged about the thing,” the other remarked. “Guess these repeating guns are a bit unreliable in a pinch.”