Over the savory chowder Marvin was saucily told that since he seemed to be so deeply interested in food he should have a hot beefsteak for his supper. He replied that he would eat beefsteak if set before him, but that he could not be a party to smuggling beefsteak, and that on no account would he join them on their Canadian ride.

So when at two o’clock he was finally left alone with the dog, he was free to inspect the empty storeroom all he pleased. He made out a list of things that in his opinion she needed, being reasonably sure that she would not smuggle enough to last two days.

Having done so, he set out to find an Indian to play the part of Santa Claus. He rowed up to the pier, left his skiff there, and embarked in the Kittiwake. Beside him sat Agricola, erect and alert.

Soon he overhauled a sail stained red with hemlock bark, but discovered that it contained only a swarthy woman with wild strawberries. A woman would hardly do for his philanthropic purpose, and so he ran on till he was abreast of Keego.

Now Keego was his second destined prize. He was going to buy Keego when he got round to it and doubtless his father would in time sell it to somebody as a coaling station. It was not pure silica but Laurentian granite, lying for the moment in the afternoon sun like so much red jacinth. From its little citadel the rains of countless years had washed down the granite stuff, doubtless with a good deal of zircon in it, and though the west side was rocky, the south and east were composed of coarse sand.

He rounded the curling southern tip where the deep water lay like green jargoon above golden pebbles, and was surprised to see a sailboat lying close to shore. He drew alongside and perceived within it a tall Indian, dead drunk. He studied the sleeper’s face. It seemed familiar, and he concluded it was like the countenance on the recent nickel coins. This man might do. He would wait a while and see if this remnant of ruined grandeur waked up.

So he made fast to the sailboat and went ashore. The citadel, with its hyacinthine hues changing under the passing clouds, invited him, and he walked toward it through the waving grass. Just before reaching it, however, he was confronted by a curious object, a little hut or lodge that some hunter, perhaps, had erected to pass the night in.

He approached the door, and paused. Behind him Agricola uttered a short bark.

Instantly a dark young face appeared, and dark young eyes were looking into his. They gazed for a moment, almost with reverence. Then, since Marvin said nothing but only smiled, the boy smiled too, and spoke.

“Bo-jou, Mugwuh!”

“Bo-jou, Little Pine.”

It was the merest guess on Marvin’s part, but it happened to be right.

“Why did you call me Mugwuh?”

A look of anxiety came over the dark young face.

“You not the Bear?”

“Yes,” smiled Marvin, “I’m Mahan, the Bear.”

The lad seemed relieved. “My father Ojeeg is down in the boat. What you want me to do?”

The question was so humble, so much like the one which Marvin himself had asked a few hours earlier, that he did not inquire into the mystery of it.

“I think we’d better put him ashore and leave him till we get back. I’m going to the Soo to buy some provisions for the Humming-Bird, and I want you to go along.”

The Little Pine obediently picked up a water-worn board and carried it down to the shore to serve as a gangplank.

Marvin walked up the gang and presently emerged with Ojeeg’s limp form lying over his left shoulder. It looked to the Little Pine like a great feat, but every soldier knows how it is done. This one came ashore and laid the sleeper down beneath a tree.

The sharp exertion made him a trifle dizzy. He walked up the gang again, swayed across the sailboat, stepped across to the Kittiwake, and plunged head first into twenty feet of water.

But this time he did not lose consciousness. When he came up he rolled over on his back and floated. In two or three minutes he was neatly dragged out on the sand, where he lay with closed eyes and open mouth.

He heard loud whines and felt a rough tongue licking his face. Then a hand drew his own tongue forward, and a resolute finger explored his mouth. He was too thoroughly humbled to object, nor did he mind being turned on his face and lifted in the middle. Next he felt a finger exploring his pulse. By the time his head ceased to whirl he heard the crackling of fire.

So when the Little Pine came back and helped him to his feet, he was ready to strip again and hang his clothes before the blaze. The Little Pine did likewise and went off to gather firewood. Returning with an armful he stopped before his patient and surveyed him critically.

“You fell down this morning. You got red line right across heart. So you do not breathe good.” Having announced his diagnosis, which was good so far as it went, the Little Pine replenished the fire and backed up close to it, like Manabozho when he punished his legs for going to sleep.

They dressed. The Little Pine made sure that his father was comfortable, and then went off to replace a certain piece of white limestone that he had noticed missing from his sister’s grave. Some camper had used it for a table, not knowing that the sand was full of graves.

When they had started north, Marvin fell to reflecting on the situation. At this rate he was not likely to live through the week. He could hardly expect Humming-Birds and Little Pines to be on hand whenever he fell into this deadly stream. Humming-Birds charged him nothing for saving his life, but Little Pines might. He put his hand into his pocket and drew out two or three dollars in silver.

“Some day, my lad, you are going to be a doctor, and I want the pleasure of paying you your first fee.”

The suggestion was ignored, and Marvin put the money back in his pocket.

“Business is business, Little Pine. Remember that you owe the Humming-Bird thirty dollars.”

“Me owe her thirty dollars?”

“Yes, for lessons in English. Of course she wouldn’t charge you a cent, but even an Indian ought to be infinitely honest.”

“Bien, I pay her!”

“That’s the right spirit. So I shall buy thirty dollars’ worth of provisions and give them to you for saving my life. You will then give the provisions to her. I want you to write her a little note saying that you are bringing her some wood oil in a bottle, and some bacon, and a white sweater, and a few other things. Do you understand?”

“I unders’and.”

“Very good. Put your hand in my pocket and take out a pencil and some paper that you will find there. Then hop over into the waist of the boat and write.”

The boy obeyed, and by the time the launch entered the slip he had produced the following memorandum of invoice:

Naynokahsee:

I made quite much money. Naynokahsee is oodyamin and ahmoo-seen-ze-bah-qun. I put white stone over Penaycee, I will put white wool on my sister who lives. I bring her wood oil in bottle. I bring her lardstick too. I hope my words are spelled right

When they came back down the river laden with much booty, Marvin had learned a number of things, including the astonishing fact that Keego belonged to Ojeeg.

“Shall we stop to see if your father is awake?”

“No. Let him sit by graves and think. All chiefs of Crane are there. They not like him to drink. Bien, the Bear will show me how to cure him.”

Marvin reflected. When he got round to buying an island full of dead chiefs it would be like requesting the trustees of the Grove Street cemetery to sell him the bones of New Haven worthies to make calcium carbide with. Ojeeg was likely to prove as refractory as zirconium.

At the same time Ojeeg might prefer ethyl alcohol to all the dead chiefs in heathendom. Ethyl can persuade the owner of graves that he is a greater man than any of his ancestors. Nothing like ethyl to put a rosy face on facts, and it is the approved business means of eliminating backward races decently.

The chief difficulty was the boy. The boy was anxious to cure his father, and expected his new friend to help. The boy had even seemed to be expecting him. How could this be? Why had the boy addressed him as the Bear?