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Updated: May 17, 2025
But don't bother about a canoe. Moosetooth has one that we'll carry down the river with us and I've got a good one at the Fort. Don't buy anything. I'm buying enough for all of us."
Also, in the far distance, on the riverbank where it curved toward the east, the young adventurers could make out the thin smoke of camp fires where a few tents and bark shacks marked the settlement of the river Indians. Here they knew Moosetooth and La Biche had passed the night. Colonel Howell's prediction as to the breakfast was fully confirmed. After this, real activity began at once.
"There's plenty of room here and good beds. Turn in and don't lose any time in the morning. We've got nothing ahead of us now but work. And remember, too, you're not in the land of condensed milk yet; you'll have the best breakfast to-morrow morning you're going to have for many a day." Moosetooth and old La Biche had already disappeared toward the misty riverbank.
"Who were they?" broke in Roy, with apparently uncalled-for eagerness. "The best on the river," answered the colonel. "Old Moosetooth Martin and Bill La Biche." "Why, they're here on the ground!" almost shouted Roy. "Yes," exclaimed Colonel Howell. "Do you know them? I'm on my way back to the Landing now. They're going with me again."
Now I'm going to get rid of that handle to my name by showing my folks and others that I can do something besides ride horses. I'm going home with old Moosetooth and La Biche and stay there long enough to forget there's a place like Paris."
A part of the train was the sealed baggage car carrying the airship. In the day coach, with their bags in their laps, and still stolid of face, sat Moosetooth Martin and old La Biche. For the moment their pipes reposed in their vest pockets. Each was eating an orange. Far in the rear of the train, Colonel Howell's little expedition was making itself comfortable in a stateroom.
But when Moosetooth, not speaking, but pointing with a grunt to a dark object scrambling up the rocky shelf on the other side of the river and the boys made out a bear, Roy sprang for his new twenty-two. "Nothin' doin'," called Norman in a low tone. "That's where we need the .303 and of course that's knocked down." "Well, what's the use anyway?" retorted Roy, resuming his seat.
Old Moosetooth looked at the knife, placed it inside his belt and began cutting a fresh pipe of tobacco. "Life in the wilds!" remarked Colonel Howell, as he and the boys regained the scows. "A lazy man's bad enough, but a booze fighter doesn't belong in this camp." "Where could he get anything to drink up here?" asked Norman, a little nervously. "Tell me!" responded Colonel Howell.
When the stores and supplies had been compactly arranged in the rear of the living room and the new storehouse, the cabin and its surroundings seemed prepared for comfortable occupancy in the coldest weather. The only man retained out of the river outfit was a Lac la Biche half-breed, a relative of Moosetooth, who was to serve both as a cook and a hunter.
Just before noon, Moosetooth taking his place in the stern of the rear boat with a small steering oar, La Biche loosened the craft and Norman and Roy were on their first voyage in the historic flatboat of the Athabasca.
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