"Hurrah!" yelled Phil.
"Hurrah!" echoed Serge.
"Bless her pretty picter!" roared Jalap Coombs, standing up and waving the old tarpaulin hat that, though often eclipsed by a fur hood, had been faithfully cherished during the entire journey.
At that moment one of the cutter's boats, in command of a strange Lieutenant, with a howitzer mounted in its bow, and manned by a dozen heavily armed sailors, hailed the canoe and shot alongside.
"What's the trouble up the river?" demanded the officer.
"There isn't any," answered Serge.
"What was all the firing about?"
"Celebrating some sort of native Fourth of July. Is Captain Matthews still in command of the Phoca?"
"Yes. Does he know you?"
"I rather guess he does, and, with your permission, we'll report to him in person."