JIM'S REBELLION.

"I tell you what, boys," Tug cried, after a great effort, "there's no use trying any more till we have smoothed a road, and I think, Captain, you'd better set all hands at that."

"I'm afraid that is so. Jim, please go back and get the axe, the hatchet, and the shovel. Now, while Tug and I dig at this road, you and Jim, Katy, can bring some of the freight up here, or perhaps take it clear across, and so save time. The small sled will help you."

It was tedious labor all around, and the wind began to blow in a way they would have thought very cold had they not been so warm and busy with work. As fast as a rod or two of road was cleared, the four took hold and dragged the boat ahead. These slow advances used up so much time that when the plateau had been crossed, the sun, peering through dark clouds, was almost level with the horizon. It now remained to get down the sudden pitch and rough slope on the farther side. But this was a task of no small importance, and Aleck called a council on the subject.

"My lambs," he began (the funny word took the edge off the unfortunate look of affairs, as it was intended to do)—"my lambs, it is growing late, and it's doubtful if we can get this big boat down that pair of stairs before dark. Don't you think I'd better order Jim and Katy to pack up the small sled with tent and bedding and kitchen-stuff?"

"'Twon't hold it all!" interrupted Jim.

"Then, Youngster, you can come back after the bedding. Take the cooking things first, and you and Katy go back to the island where we lunched, and make a fire. Tug and I—eh, Tug?—will stay here and chop away till dark, and then we'll go back to camp with you when you come after the blankets, and help you carry the tent."

"Are you going to leave the boat here all night?" asked Jim, in alarm.

"Why, of course; what'll harm it? Now be off, and make a big fire."

So the younger ones departed, and by and by Jim returned for a second load. He found the two older boys cutting a sloping path through the little ice bluff on the farther side of the hummock, and pretty tired of it. They were not yet done—the shovel not being of much service in working the hard blue ice—but it was now getting too dark to do more, so they piled the snug bundles of blankets into Jim's sled box, and gave him the rope, while Tug and Aleck put their shoulders under opposite ends of the tent roll. Then together they all skated away through the thickening windy twilight, and over the ashy-gray plain of ice, towards where Katy's fire glowed like a red spark on the distant shore.

It was a weary but not at all disheartened party that lounged in the open door of the tent that night, while a big fire blazed in front, and supper was cooking. This was the first time the sail had been spread as a tent, and it answered the purpose nicely, giving plenty of room. The straw Katy had been so anxious about had to be left in the boat, so that they got no good of it. Jim chaffed his sister a good deal about this, and Tug rather encouraged him, thinking it was a fair chance for fun at Katy's expense; but when he saw that Katy really was feeling badly, not at Jim's teasing words, but for fear she had made the boys useless trouble, Aleck came to the rescue. Seizing The Youngster by the shoulder, he spun him round like a teetotum, and was going to box his ears, when Katy cried out, "Oh, don't!" and saved that young gentleman's skin for the present.

"Then I'll punish you in another way. Take your knife, go over there to the marsh"—it was perhaps a hundred yards away—"and cut as many rushes as you can carry."

The Youngster never moved.

"I don't want the rushes," said Katy, trying to keep the peace, but her brother paid no heed.

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked again of Jim.

"Yes, I did."

"Well, that was a Captain's Order, and I advise you to obey."

"Do it yourself!" shouted the angry Jim, sitting down by the fire.

Aleck looked at him an instant, saw his sulky, set lips, and then walked over to a willow bush near by. From the centre of this bush he cut a thriving switch, and carefully trimmed off all the twigs and crumpled leaves. It was as pliant and elastic as whalebone. It whistled through the air, when it was waved, like a wire or a thin lash. It would hug the skin it was laid upon, and wrap tightly around a boy's legs, and sting at the tip like a hornet. It wouldn't raise a welt upon the skin, as an iron rod or a rawhide might do, but it would hurt just as bad while it was touching you.

Jim knew all this, and it flashed through his brain, every bit of it, as he saw Aleck trim the switch.

"Better scoot, Youngster," Tug advised, with a grin that was meant kindly, but made Jim madder than ever.

"Please get the rushes," coaxed Katy.

But when Aleck came back the boy still sat there, defiant of orders.

"Now, James," he said, as he stood over him, "you have been ordered by your Captain to go and get some rushes. You refuse. You are insubordinate. I'll give you just one minute to make up your mind what you will do."

Jim glanced up, saw the determined face and stalwart form of his brother; saw Tug keeping quiet and showing no intention of interfering; saw the awful willow. He rose quickly from his seat, and darted away into the scrub alders and willows as hard as he could run, but not towards the rushes.

Aleck didn't follow him. "Never mind," he said. "Go on with your supper, Katy. That boy gets those rushes before he has any grub to eat or blankets to lie in, unless you both vote against it, and I don't think you will, for it was a reasonable order."

"Well, Captain," said Tug, "I think we might ease up on it a little. It was a little rough on The Youngster sending him alone in the dark to get the stuff. If you had sent me with him, I suppose he'd have gone fast enough. If you'll say so now, I allow he'll surrender and save his hide. For that matter, I don't mind getting 'em alone if you'll let the kid go. I was going to propose it myself just as you gave the order."

"That's very kind of you, Tug; but I couldn't allow you to get them alone. You may help if you want to."

"May I tell him so?" Katy asked, eagerly.

"Yes, if you can find him."

"I'll find him—look out for the bacon;" and the girl went off into the gloom and the bushes, calling, "Jim! Jim!"

It was a good while before she came back, and the boys, tired of waiting, had forked out the bacon, and were eating their meal, which was what the poets call "frugal," but immensely relished all the same.

Suddenly Katy and the culprit stalked out of the ring of shadows that encircled the fire, bearing huge bundles of yellow rushes.

"That ain't fair!" cried Tug. "You ought to have let me gone, Katy."

"Oh, I didn't mind, and I wanted Jim to hurry back."

"I didn't want her to carry none," said Jim, more eager about self-defense than grammar. "If I give up, I want to give up all over, and not half-way."

"Good for you, Youngster," Aleck shouted, leaping up. "Give us your hand!"

Thus peace was restored, and the boy sat down happily to his well-earned supper, while the older ones spread the crisp reed-straw. Finding there wasn't quite enough, they went off to the marshes and brought two more armfuls, which made a warm and springy couch for the whole party.

These "rushes" were not rushes, properly speaking, but the wild rice which grows so abundantly on the borders of the great lakes, and throughout the little ponds and shallow sheets of water that are dotted so thickly over Wisconsin and southern Minnesota. It is like a small bamboo jungle, for the close-crowding stiff reeds often stand ten feet or more above the water. They bear upon the upper part of their stalks a few ribbon-like leaves, and each reed carries a plume which in autumn contains the seeds, or the "rice."

The botanical name of the plant is Zizania aquatica; and among it flourish not only the common white and yellow water-lilies, but that splendid one, the Nelumbium luteum, which Western people call the lotus.

This rice formed an important part of the food of the Indians who lived where it grew. In and out of the marshes run narrow canals, kept open by the currents, and through these the Indian women would paddle their canoes, seeking the ripe heads, which they would cut off and take ashore to be threshed out in the wigwam, or else they would shake and rub out the rice into a basket as they went along. At home the rice would be crushed into a coarse flour in their stone mortars, then made into cakes baked on the surface of smooth stones heated in the coals.

The stalks, round, smooth, and straight, were of service to the Indians also. Out of them they made mats and thatching for their lodges, and they served as excellent arrow-shafts, a point of fire-hardened wood, of bone, or of flint having been fixed in the end.

In warm weather these broad, submerged marshes, undulating in color-waves—green in spring, golden-yellow in midsummer, and warm reddish-brown in October—as the breeze swept across the vast extent of pliant reeds, formed the home of a great variety of animals, whose numbers were almost unlimited. There, in the darkly stained water, lurked hosts of small shells and insects—dragon-flies, beetles, and aquatic bugs and flies, whose habits were always a matter for curiosity. Then, where insects and mollusks were so numerous, of course there were plenty of fishes, great and small, the little ones feeding on the bugs and snails, the larger on them, and some giants—like the big pike—on these again. Nor did this end the list. After the big fish came the muskrat; after the muskrat—in the old days, at least—sneaked the wolverine; after the wolverine crept the stealthy panther; and for the panther an Indian lay in wait.

The marshes were full of birds, too, in the bird-season—small, piping wrens; suspicious sparrows; ducks and rails and gallinules of many kinds and many voices; herons and cranes and hawks; coming and going with the seasons, making the yellow reeds populous with busy lives, and vocal with their merriment. Now, however, all was silent.

Our travellers would have preferred skating across the marshes rather than outside upon the windy lake, but it was reported that warm springs came out of the ooze in many parts of the rice morass, keeping the ice so weak (though not melting it quite away) as to make skating unsafe. This danger was not so great, perhaps, in a winter so unusually cold as this one was proving itself to be, as it had been shown to be in milder seasons; but they did not want to run risks.

"How noisy it will be all around this islet in three months from now!" Aleck remarked, as they were preparing for bed. "Then you will hardly be able to hear yourself speak for the frogs."

"Before there were any lighthouses on the lake," said Tug, "sailing was pretty much guesswork; but my father told me the sailors, when they approached the shore, used to know where they were by listening to the bull-frogs. The bulls would call out the names of their ports, you know: San—dÚsk—y! To—l-É-e-e—do! Mon—rÓe! De—trÓi-i-i-i—it!"