nothing, and while the day was young they walked back to the Columbia, re-entered the canoe and headed up stream.

Henceforward their work was different from that which they faced when descending the river. There were long stretches where, despite the current, the dusky boatmen found no special trouble in driving the craft eastward; but, as they progressed, the labor became severer, for the stream narrowed and the velocity of its flow became greater. The portages were long and toilsome, and, as the party advanced, many places were met where these portages became necessary on account of the rapidity of the current alone. All, however, bent resolutely to work, Victor and George taxing their strength to the utmost. Deerfoot seemed tireless, but he could never be inconsiderate to others. He could have outworn Mul-tal-la, though not till after the exhaustion of the boys, who agreed between themselves that the job was the biggest they had ever tackled; and yet their adult companions not only did the work the twins were doing, but swung the paddles in addition.

Our friends stayed one night at the Echeloot or Upper Chinook village, which they had visited when coming down the river. You will remember that it was there they first saw wooden houses made by Indians. The explorers were treated as hospitably as before, but, as you will also recall, the natives were Flatheads, and the sight of the misshapen skulls, towering at the rear like the ridge of a roof, was so disagreeable that the travelers were glad to turn their backs upon them.

You have not forgotten the thrilling descent of the Falls of the Columbia, where all the skill of Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la was needed to save the canoe from being dashed upon the rocks.

"Are you going to paddle through them again?" asked Victor.

"Deerfoot does not wish to see his brother scared so bad as he was before."

"I was about to say that if you and Mul-tal-la don't feel equal to the task, George and I are ready to take it off your hands."

"The heart of Deerfoot is made glad to hear the words of his brother," replied the Shawanoe, handing his paddle to the youth. Not expecting that, Victor scratched his head and looked quizzically at George.

"Shall we show those fellows how to do such things?"

"I don't think it is worth while; they won't appreciate it."

"Deerfoot is sorry," was all that was said by the Shawanoe, as the boat was drawn out of the waters and hoisted upon the shoulders of the party.

The Shawanoe gave another illustration of his stern principles when, at the close of day, the canoe was run into shore at the point where the travelers had encamped beside the pile of lumber from which they were led to take what fuel they needed through the misrepresentation of the three Indians who called upon them. The night was one of the coldest of several weeks, and at their elbows, as may be said, was enough fuel to make them comfortable for months.

The brothers looked longingly at the mass of lumber, but did not dare touch it in the presence of their friend.

"I wonder if we can't persuade him to look the other way for a little while," said Victor in a low tone to George.

"It wouldn't make any difference if he did—he would see us just the same; the only thing to do is to appeal to his common sense."

"You try it; he won't pay any attention to me."

"See here," said the shivering lad; "it seems to me, Deerfoot, that since we have already stolen some lumber from that pile, it can't be any harm to steal a little more; you see, with your good sense, that it will be only taking two bites from the same apple."

The Shawanoe looked gravely at his young friends, whom no one understood better than he, and abruptly asked:

"How much do two and two make?"

"As near as I can figure out," interposed Victor, "the answer to that problem is four."

"When we used the wood we thought we had the right to take it; we should pay the owner if we could find him. If we use any of it now it will be a sin, as sure as two and two make four, for we know it belongs to another; it is better to freeze than to steal wood. Deerfoot does not wish to hear his brothers say anything more."

"I suppose he is right," growled Victor, "but doesn't he draw it mighty fine? We may as well prepare to spend one of the worst nights we have had since leaving the Ohio."

The canoe was drawn up the bank and then turned over, so as to shield the property beneath. Then the blankets were spread so that the four lay near one another and thus secured mutual warmth. The region had become familiar to our friends because of their former visit, and they knew that all the natives were friendly. Deerfoot, therefore, said there was no need of mounting guard. They had eaten enough dried salmon to stay the pangs of hunger, though the boys would have relished something warm and more palatable.

All slept soundly, and the night passed without the slightest disturbance from prowling man or animal. Victor Shelton was the first to awake. He was lying on his side with his back against that of his brother, and his face so covered by his blanket that only a small orifice was left through which to breathe. His first sensation was that of pressure, as if a heavy weight was distributed over the blanket and was bearing him down. He moved his arm and found that the blanket, from some cause, was really heavier than usual. A vigorous flirt freed his shoulder from the wrapping, and he then saw the cause of the peculiar feeling he had noticed: the earth was covered with several inches of snow. Anyone coming upon the camp in the gray light of morning would have noted nothing but the mass of lumber, the flowing river, the overturned canoe and several white mounds. The snowfall had ceased, and fortunately there had been a considerable rise of temperature. The snow was soft and wet, and one could move about without extra protection, and not suffer from cold.

Victor lay still for a minute or two, engaged in thinking. Then he gently pushed the blanket off his shoulder and body, so as to leave his limbs free. With the same stealth he rose to his feet and looked around. There lay his three friends, encased even to their heads and feet in the warm protection.

"I think there couldn't be a better time for me to settle my accounts with you fellows," muttered the lad, looking down on the mounds.

"Master George Shelton, you have a bad habit of making slurring remarks about my walking pretty fast from the wounded antelope, forgetting that by doing so I drew him on to his own destruction. You need a lesson and I'm going to give it to you.

"Mr. Mul-tal-la, you didn't say much at the time I was explaining that little matter to George, but I saw the grin on your face, and I knew you were thinking a good deal more than you had any right to think. You need to be taught better manners.

"As for you, Mr. Deerfoot, you are the worst of all. I can't forget the scandalous tricks you have played on me. It will take a long time to even matters between us, but I'm going to make a good start to-day."

Knowing how lightly the Shawanoe slept, Victor picked his way with great skill until he had taken a dozen or more steps. The down-like carpet enabled him to do this absolutely without noise, a fact which explains why Deerfoot did not awake.

Victor now stooped and began silently manufacturing snowballs. He packed the soft substance as hard as he could while circling it about in his palms and rounding it into shape. When the missile suggested a 12-pound shot he laid it at his feet, with the whispered words:

"That's for you, Master George Shelton."

The second sphere was compressed and modeled with the same pains and placed beside the first.

"That's for you, Mr. Mul-tal-la, and you're going to get it good! As for you, Mr. Deerfoot, you shall have a double dose."

Crooking his left arm at the elbow, Victor laid three of the nicely molded snowballs in the hollow, which served as a quiver serves for arrows.