Shortly afterward they came to a sluggish little stream in the bog with a peculiar red-and-yellow scum along its banks.  It was deep and soft-bottomed.  Yan tried it with the pole—­did not dare to wade, so they walked along its course till they found a small tree lying from bank to bank, then crossed on this.  Half a mile farther on the bog got dryer, and a mass of green ahead marked one of the islands of high land.  Over this they passed quickly, keeping the northwest course.  They now had a succession of small bogs and large islands.  The sun was hot here and Peetweet was getting tired.  He was thirsty, too, and persisted in drinking the swamp water whenever he found a hole.

“Say, Peetweet, you’ll suffer for that if you don’t quit; that water isn’t fit to drink unless you boil it.”

But Peetweet complained of burning thirst and drank recklessly.  After two hours’ tramp he was very tired and wanted to turn back.  Yan sought a dry island and then gathered sticks for a fire, but found all the matches they had were soaking wet with wading through the bog.  Peetweet was much upset by this, not on account of fire now, but in case they should be out all night.

“You wait and see what an Indian does,” said Little Beaver.  He sought for a dried Balsam Fir, cut the rubbing-sticks, made a bow of a slightly bent branch, and soon had a blazing fire, to Peter’s utter amazement, for he had never seen the trick of making a fire by rubbing-sticks.

After drinking some tea and eating a little, Pete felt more encouraged.

“We have travelled more than six miles now, I reckon,” said the Chief; “an hour longer and we shall be in sight of the forest if there is one,” and Yan led off across swamps more or less open and islands of burned timber.

Pete began to be appalled by the distance they were putting between them and their friends.  “What if we should get lost?  They never could find us.”

“We won’t get lost,” said Yan in some impatience; “and if we did, what of it?  We have only to keep on straight north or south for four or five hours and we reach some kind of a settlement.”

After an hour’s tramp northeast they came to an island with a tall tree that had branches right to the ground.  Yan climbed up.  A vast extent of country lay all about him—­open flat bogs and timber islands, and on far ahead was a long, dark mass of solid ever-green—­surely the forest he sought.  Between him and it he saw water sparkling.

“Oh, Pete, you ought to be up here,” he shouted joyfully; “it’s worth the climb to see this view.”

“I’d rather see our own back-yard,” grumbled Pete.

Yan came down, his face aglow with pleasure, and exclaimed:  “It’s close to, now!  I saw the Pine woods.  Just off there.”

“How far?”

“Oh, a couple of miles, at most.”

“That’s what you have been saying all along.”

“Well, I saw it this time; and there is water out there.  I saw that, too.”