It was the easiest day’s course that had been experienced since Enoch had joined the expedition.  There were three rapids during the day but they rode these with no difficulties.  Enoch and Jonas rowed fairly steadily in the morning, but in the afternoon, they spelled each other.  The light rations were making themselves felt.  The going was so smooth that dusk was upon them before they made camp.  Milton had been wretchedly sick, all day, but he made no complaint and forced down the handful of boiled beans and the tin cup of pale coffee that was his share of each meal.

They made camp languidly.  Enoch found the task of piling fire wood arduous and as the camp was in dry sand and the blankets had dried out during the day, they did not attempt the usual great blaze.  Jonas insisted on acting as night nurse for Milton, and Enoch was asleep before he had more then swallowed his supper.  He had bad dreams and woke with a dull headache, and wondered if Jonas and Agnew felt as weak and light-headed as he did.  But although both the men moved about slowly and Jonas made no attempt to clean up the Ida, they uttered no complaints.  Milton was feeling a little better.  Before the day’s journey was begun, he and Agnew plotted their position on the map.

“Well, does to-morrow see us at the Ferry?” asked Enoch, cheerfully, when Agnew put up his pencil with an abstracted air.

“No, Judge,” sighed Milton, “that rotten first day after the wreck, cost us a good many miles.  I thought we’d make up for it, yesterday.  But we’re a full day behind.”

“That is,” exclaimed Enoch, “we must take that grub pile and redivide it, stretching it over three days instead of two!”

“Yes,” replied Milton, grimly.

“Jove, Agnew, you’re going to be positively fairy like, before we’re through with this,” said Enoch.  “Jonas, get out the grub supply, will you?”

Jonas, standing on a rock that projected over the water, did not respond.  He was watching eagerly as his new fishline of ravelled rope pulled taut in the stream.  Suddenly he gave a roar and jerked the line so violently that the fish landed on Milton’s blanket.

“Must weigh two pounds!” cried Agnew.

“You start her broiling, Mr. Agnew!” shouted Jonas, “while I keep on a-fishing.”

“What changed your luck, Jonas?” asked Enoch.  “You’re using beans and bent wire, just as you did yesterday.”

“Aha! not just as I did yesterday, boss!  This time I tied Na-che’s charm just above the hook.  No fish could stand that, once they got an eye on it.”

But evidently no second fish cast an eye on the irresistible charm, and Enoch was unwilling to wait for further luck longer than was necessary to cook the fish and eat it.  But during the day Jonas trolled whenever the water made trolling possible, hopefully spitting on the hook each time he cast it over, casting always from the right hand and muttering Fish!  Fish!  Fish! three times for each venture.  Yet no other fish responded to Na-che’s charm that day.