“Fists left out!” Just what Beaver wanted, and the biggest boy was sent flying.  “If any other Boiler would like to try I’d be pleased to oblige him,” said Yan, just a little puffed up, as he held up the second scalp he had won from Blackhawk.

Much to his surprise, Bluejay, the city boy, accepted, and he was still more surprised when the city boy sent him down in the dust.

“Best out of three!” shouted Woodpecker quickly, in the interest of his friend, taking advantage of an unwritten law that when it is not stated to be in one try, usually called “sudden death,” it is “best two out of three” that counts.

Yan knew now that he had found a worthy foe.  He dodged, waiting for an opening—­gripped—­locked—­and had him on the hip, he thought, but the city boy squirmed in time, yielding instead of resisting, and both went down tight-gripped.  For a minute it was doubtful.

“Go it, Yan.”

“Give it to him, Bluejay.”

But Yan quickly threw out one leg, got a little purchase, and turned the city boy on his back.

“Hooray for Little Beaver!”

“One try more!  So far even!” cried Blackhawk.

They closed again, but Yan was more than ever careful.  The city boy was puffing hard.  The real trial was over and Cy went down quite easily.

“Three cheers for Little Beaver!” A fourth scalp was added to his collection, and Sam patted him on the back, while Bluejay got out a pocket mirror and comb and put his hair straight.

But this did not help out in the matter of leadership, and when the Medicine Man heard of the continued deadlock he said: 

“Boys, you know when there is a doubt about who is to lead the only way is for all Chiefs to resign and have a new election.”  The boys acted on this suggestion but found another deadlock.  Little Beaver refused to be put up.  Woodpecker got three votes, Blackhawk four, and Guy one (his own), and the Sangers refused to stand by the decision.

“Let’s wait till after the ’hard trip’—­that will show who is the real Chief—­then have a new election,” suggested Little Beaver, with an eye to Woodpecker’s interest, for this hard trip was one that had been promised them by Caleb—­a three-days’ expedition in the Long Swamp.

This swamp was a wild tract, ten miles by thirty, that lay a dozen miles north of Sanger.  It was swampy only in parts, but the dry places were mere rocky ridges, like islands in the bogs.  The land on these was worthless and the timber had been ruined by fire, so Long Swamp continued an uninhabited wilderness.

There was said to be a few Deer on the hardwood ridges.  Bears and Lynx were occasionally seen, and Wolves had been heard in recent winters.  Of course there were Foxes, Grouse and Northern Hare.  The streams were more or less choked with logs, but were known to harbour a few Beavers and an occasional Otter.  There were no roads for summer use, only long, dim openings across the bogs, known as winter trails and timber roads.  This was the region that the boys proposed to visit under Caleb’s guidance.