But Neewa’s education had travelled along another line, and while his experience in a canoe had been confined to that day he did know what a log was.  He knew from more than one adventure of his own that a log in the water is the next thing to a live thing, and that its capacity for playing evil jokes was beyond any computation that he had ever been able to make.  That was where Miki’s store of knowledge was fatally defective.  Inasmuch as the log had carried them safely through the worst stretch of water he had ever seen he regarded it in the light of a first-class canoe—­ with the exception that it was unpleasantly rounded on top.  But this little defect did not worry him.  To Neewa’s horror he sat up boldly, and looked about him.

Instinctively the cub hugged the log still closer, while Miki was seized with an overwhelming desire to shake from himself the mass of suds in which, with the exception of the end of his tail and his eyes, he was completely swathed.  He had often shaken himself in the canoe; why not here?  Without either asking or answering the question he did it.

Like the trap of a gibbet suddenly sprung by the hangman, the log instantly responded by turning half over.  Without so much as a wail Miki was off like a shot, hit the water with a deep and solemn chug, and once more disappeared as completely as if he had been made of lead.

Finding himself completely submerged for the first time, Neewa hung on gloriously, and when the log righted itself again he was tenaciously hugging his old place, all the froth washed from him.  He looked for Miki—­but Miki was gone.  And then he felt once more that choking drag on his neck!  Of necessity, because his head was pulled in the direction of the rope, he saw where the rope disappeared in the water.  But there was no Miki.  The pup was down too far for Neewa to see.  With the drag growing heavier and heavier—­for here there was not much current to help Miki along—­ Neewa hung on like grim death.  If he had let go, and had joined Miki in the water, the good fortune which was turning their way would have been missed.  For Miki, struggling well under water, was serving both as an anchor and a rudder; slowly the log shifted its course, was caught in a beach-eddy, and drifted in close to a muddy bank.

With one wild leap Neewa was ashore.  Feeling the earth under his feet he started to run, and the result was that Miki came up slowly through the mire and spread himself out like an overgrown crustacean while he got the wind back into his lungs.  Neewa, sensing the fact that for a few moments his comrade was physically unfit for travel, shook himself, and waited.  Miki picked up quickly.  Within five minutes he was on his feet shaking himself so furiously that Neewa became the centre of a shower of mud and water.

Had they remained where they were, Challoner would have found them an hour or so later, for he paddled that way, close inshore, looking for their bodies.  It may be that the countless generations of instinct back of Neewa warned him of that possibility, for within a quarter of an hour after they had landed he was leading the way into the forest, and Miki was following.  It was a new adventure for the pup.