The travel ashore was exceedingly difficult.  A dense forest growth of cedar and tamarack pushed to the very edge of the water, and the rare open beaches were composed of smooth rocks too small to afford secure footing, and too large to be trodden under.  The girl either slipped and stumbled on insecure and ankle-twisting shale, or forced a way through the awful tangle of a swamp.  As the canoeing at this point was not at all difficult, her utmost efforts could not keep her abreast of the travellers.

Truth to tell May-may-gwan herself did not appear to consider that she was hardly used.  Indeed she let her hair down about her face, took off the brilliant bits of color that had adorned her garments, and assumed the regulation downcast attitude of a penitent.  But Dick Herron was indignant.

“Look here, Sam,” said he, “this thing ain’t right at all.  She got into all this trouble on our account, and we’re riding canoe here slick as carcajou in a pork cache while she pegs along afoot.  Let’s take her aboard.”

“Won’t do,” replied Sam, briefly, “can’t interfere.  Let those Injuns run themselves.  They’re more or less down on us as it is.”

“Oh, you’re too slow!” objected Dick.  “What the hell do we care for a lot of copper-skins from Rupert’s House!  We ain’t got anything to ask from them but a few pairs of moccasins, and if they don’t want to make them for us, they can use their buckskin to tie up their sore heads!”

He thrust his paddle in close to the bow and twisted the canoe towards shore.

“Come on, Sam,” said he, “show your spunk!”

The older man said nothing.  His steady blue eyes rested on his companion’s back not unkindly, although a frown knit the brows above them.

“Come here, little sister,” cried Dick to the girl.

She picked her way painfully through the scrub to the edge of the bank.

“Get into the canoe,” commanded Dick.

She drew back in deprecation.

“Ka’-ka’win!” she objected, in very real terror.  “The old-men have commanded that I take the Long Way, and who am I that I should not obey?  It cannot be.”

“Get in here,” ordered Dick, obstinately.

“My brother is good to me, but I cannot, for the head men have ordered.  It would go very hard with me, if I should disobey.”

“Oh, hell!” exploded petulant Dick in English, slamming his paddle down against the thwarts.

He leaped ashore, picked the girl up bodily, threw her almost with violence into the canoe, thrust the light craft into the stream, and resumed his efforts, scowling savagely.

The girl dropped her face in her hands.  When the white men’s craft overtook the main band, she crouched still lower, shuddering under the grim scrutiny of her people.  Dick’s lofty scorn looked neither to right nor left, but paddled fiercely ahead until the Indians were well astern and hidden by the twists of the river.  Sam Bolton proceeded serenely on in his accustomed way.