appeared, but dropped the victim to bark and bound upon the
"relief party" with ecstatic expressions of joy, in spite of
Rolf's -- "Skookum! you little brute!"

Yes! Quonab was back; that is, he was at the lake shore, and
Skookum had made haste to plunge into the joys and gayeties of
this social centre, without awaiting the formalities of greeting
or even of dry-shod landing.

The next scene was -- a big, high post, a long, strong chain and
a small, sad dog.

"Ho, Quonab, you found your people? You had a good time?"

"Ugh," was the answer, the whole of it, and all the light Rolf
got for many a day on the old man's trip to the North. The
prospect of going to Albany for Van Cortlandt was much more
attractive to Quonab than that of the harvest field, so a
compromise was agreed on. Callan's barley was in the stock; if
all three helped Callan for three days, Callan would owe them for
nine, and so it was arranged.

Again "good-bye," and Rolf, Quonab, and little dog Skookum went
sailing down the Schroon toward the junction, where they left a
cache of their supplies, and down the broadening Hudson toward
Albany.

Rolf had been over the road twice; Quonab never before, yet his
nose for water was so good and the sense of rapid and portage was
so strong in the red man, that many times he was the pilot. "This