About five o'clock the next morning, Bob was awakened by what sounded like a parade under his windows. He got up and saw a lot of women and men coming from the little church on the opposite corner. Bob's action and noise in opening the window had awakened the others, as they were all sleeping in a sort of dormitory.

"What the deuce is going on outside?" asked Bill Williams. "Has the circus come to town or why this procession so early in the morning?"

"You must remember that you are in a real Catholic country and that the Roman Catholic religion plays a very big part in the life of the people here. The so-called procession you will hear any morning as it is merely the good souls of the parish returning from the mass or the matin service," said Mr. Waterman.

"Well, let's get up now that we're all awake," said Bill.

"Not all," said Bob, pointing to Pud, who slept on, totally unconscious of all that had aroused the others. "Little Lord Fauntleroy is still peacefully sleeping."

"Not so loud," said Mr. Waterman. "You'll wake him up."

"No fear of that," said Bill. "What's the answer, Bob? Shall we merely mob him or what shall it be?"

"Let's dump him on the floor and have some fun with him," said Bob.

The two boys then went over and with a mighty shove, they dumped Pud on the floor and turned cot and mattress over him. They both climbed on top and only smothered sounds could be heard from beneath the pile. Then like Goliath in his wrath, Pud arose, cot, mattress, blankets, two yelling boys, and all, and shook himself. He made a bull-like rush at Bob but Bill got him from behind and for five minutes there was some pretty rough-house work in that room.

"Ye gods! I'm hot," at last cried Bob, stepping back for a breathing spell.

"Same here," said Pud, sitting down on a cot and wiping off the sweat with a pajama top that had gotten separated from its master during the melee.

"Let's get dressed and get some breakfast," said Bill.

"Is this the regular setting up exercises that this little company of mild-eyed anarchists have every morning?" asked Mr. Waterman in his quiet way. "If so, I am afraid that I cannot recommend it for persons nervously disposed."

"Oh, this is nothing," said Bob. "This will just give us an appetite."

"Well, I hear Madame Colombe busy getting breakfast ready, so we'll just be in time," said Mr. Waterman.

Ten minutes later, the party was seated around a table in the dining room eating a breakfast of oatmeal, milk, ham and eggs, hot biscuits and coffee.

"The boat leaves at six-thirty so we haven't much time to lose," said Mr. Waterman.

"We'll be with you in a minute," said Bob.

The boys hurried upstairs and came down with their dunnage bags. They had expected to carry these down to the boat, but a little hotel cart came along and took them down. They had a few minutes to spare as they arrived at the wharf, so they went out to the little observation house in the middle of the pond right near the wharf. This pond was used by the Government as a Fishery Station and there were scores of magnificent salmon in the pond. The boys were much interested in watching these wonderful game fish. They could see them swimming around and occasionally one of them would jump clear out of the water after a fly or some other insect.

"We'll have to catch a few like those this summer," said Mr. Waterman with a glistening eye.

"Will we really have a chance to catch salmon as large as those?" asked Bob.

"Oh, yes, on our Portneuf River trip, we should get some salmon just as fine as these," said Mr. Waterman.

"What do you catch them with? I'm sure I have nothing big enough to hold a fish like that," said Pud.

"We catch them with the regular rod and fly," replied their leader.

"Don't say 'we'; say 'I' catch them, for I should think it would have to be a real fisherman that could land such a big fish with such a small line and rod," said Pud.

"That's why we're coming up here," said Bill Williams. "My ambition is to get one of those salmon and I don't want it unless I can catch it with my regular tackle."

"That's talking like a real fisherman and sportsman," said Mr. Waterman. "Boys, this fishing is or should be considered a sport. That being so, we must make it a matching of our wits against that of the fish. It should not be merely our strength against theirs. We, as sportsmen, should give them a chance."

"That's the idea," said Bob. "Well, I'll consider that I am developing into a real fisherman when I am able to land one of those big fellows."

Just then the boat whistle was heard and the boys hurried on board. The vessel that was to take them to Escoumains was an old side-wheel steamer apparently of the vintage of about 1812. It did some wheezing and puffing before it got straightened out for the trip. The boys looked over the boat with interest, paying special attention to the people who were on board. They were greatly interested in the talk and gestures of the Frenchmen that composed the crew and most of the passengers. A little old Frenchman with a fiddle also attracted their attention. A few pennies soon had him playing away for dear life and calling off the figures in French in a singsong voice.

On their way down the river, the boat stopped at two places, at both of which lumbering seemed to be the main industry. At last, the boat put in for Escoumains. Two large tramp steamers were anchored off the town loading lumber from big barges. The steamers drew too much water to get into the town wharf, thus requiring two handlings of the lumber. Quite a few people were on the wharf. Mr. Anderson, one of Mr. Waterman's men, was awaiting them. As soon as they were off the boat, he had a carriage ready and they were off for the little village a half mile away. They stopped at Madame LaBlanche's boarding house, where Mr. Waterman had made arrangements for keeping their "store" clothes while they were out in the woods. They were shown upstairs and in a short time, the boys were getting into their real wool suits. Mr. Waterman brought in the shoepacks that he had made for them according to the measurements he had taken previously. All fitted nicely, though Mr. Waterman looked over them carefully.

"It pays to be sure that your shoepacks are right," said Mr. Waterman, "for they are the real boots for use in canoeing trips. They should be comfortable."

"Are these waterproof?" asked Bob. "Father told me that his shoepacks were tight as a drum and that he stepped right out of the canoe into the water whenever he wanted to."

"That's right," replied Mr. Anderson. "It is possible that they may leak just a little the first two days until the seams swell, but after that they will be just as dry as rubber boots."

This information caused Bill and Pud to look at their shoepacks with more care. They were both anxious to try them out. Finally, they were ready for the woods, with everything unnecessary put away at Madame LaBlanche's. Their sleeping bags, extra shirts, moccasins, etc., were in their dunnage bags and all of these were piled outside the door on the porch.

"We still have about a half hour before lunch so let us go over to the store, as I want you all to meet Sandy MacPherson, the owner," said Mr. Waterman. "Sandy is the big man of this village. He runs the big saw mill, owns the store and manages scores of lumbermen in the winter when the trees are cut many miles up the valleys. He's a good man to know as everybody here does as he says. In addition, he talks English and that helps when one cannot talk French very well."

They all went over to the store and found it the center of male society at least for the village. Several men were gathered there while others came and went, buying things in the store, which was quite a large store for such a small village. Sandy seemed delighted to meet the boys.

"I'm delighted to meet you, boys," said he. "You're in for a fine time if you're going into the woods with Mr. Waterman. If you get in trouble, just call on me."

The boys thanked him for his good wishes and after taking a look at the big saw mill, they went back to the boarding house.

"Fill up, boys, as this is the last meal you'll eat in a house for some time," said Mr. Anderson.

"That's all right, but I wager that they'll enjoy some of the meals we're going to have on Lac Parent or Corbeau more than any they have had in a long time," said Mr. Waterman.

Madame LaBlanche outdid herself at this lunch for she had a very good chicken dinner for the boys, with pie, cake, preserved raspberries and crabapples for dessert.

"This is a fine meal to start one off for the woods," said Pud. "I couldn't walk a step if you paid me five dollars."

"You won't have to walk for some time," said Mr. Anderson. "We're going to drive in about sixteen miles and I'll wager that this dinner will be pretty well digested by the time we get there. We're going in on an old wood road so you will hardly find it like the macadamized roads you have in the park in Philadelphia."

A short time later they were off. Two carriages were to take them into the woods, each drawn by a hardy looking though rather small French-Canadian horse and driven by a habitant. Bob was in the front seat with the driver, with Pud and Mr. Waterman in the back seat. Bill and Mr. Anderson were in the other buggy.

"Well, here's a chance to begin talking French," said Mr. Waterman to Bob. "Bill tells me that you spout it quite well."

"Bill is exaggerating," said Bob. "I used to talk French rather well and I hope to pick it up soon again."

"You will," said Mr. Waterman. "You will also find that these habitants speak a pretty good dialect of French. In no time, Bob, you will be able to talk just like the natives."

"Allons, Gi-may," cried the driver to the horse as he touched him with the whip. The horse responded nobly and they bowled along right merrily. Bob tried to think what "Allons, Gi-may" meant. He got the first word all right. That meant "Giddap or Go-along" in the vernacular but what that "Gi-may" meant he could not think. He did not want to ask Mr. Waterman so soon for information. Taking the bull by the horns, Bob began a conversation with the driver. To be sure it was very limited, for Bob had his troubles, but after a little while he got along very well. He was soon asking the driver for the names of the various trees they noted along the road. Bob thought that this would be valuable in the woods. All the habitants in such a place as Escoumains are woodsmen, and the driver, as such, knew the names of everything in the woods. But, every once in a while, he would cry out "Allons, Gi-may" and Bob would wonder what that word "Gi-may" meant. Soon the road led by a small farmhouse that had about two acres cleared around it.

"That's the last house you'll see," said the driver to Bob. Bob asked Mr. Waterman if this was right.

"That's right," said Mr. Waterman, "and you will soon know that it is so, for the road gets worse from now on."

This proved correct and Pud was bounced around so that he had no trouble digesting his dinner.

"This is some road," said Pud.

"All the same, we must keep going for we want to ford the river before dark," said Mr. Waterman.

"What river?" asked Pud.

"The Escoumains," said Mr. Waterman. "That is the name of the river at the little village from which we started. The village is called after the river. You will get to know this river well before the summer is over, for we'll run down it to the village some time."

"Are there any rapids?" asked Bob.

"You can't find any river in this country without fast water here and there," said Mr. Waterman. "The only difference is that some rivers have faster water than others. After I have seen you on the lakes awhile and have had the guides teach you a few things we'll take a try at some fast water and you'll think that there is no better sport than shooting a rapid."

"It must be great fun," said Bob.

Shortly afterwards, they struck the river and the road led up along the bank. It followed the windings of the river and it was slow work. Every now and then the driver yelled "Allons, Gi-may," and Bob racked his brain to think what "Gi-may" meant. At last it came to him in a flash. He turned to the driver and asked in French,

"Is the horse named Gi-may?"

"Oh, yes," said the driver. "He belongs to Monsieur MacPherson and he calls him Gi-may."

"Oh, you mean Jimmy," said Bob.

"But, yes, Gi-may," said the driver, and Bob had solved the riddle. He then told Mr. Waterman how he had tried to think what "Gi-may" meant, thinking at first that it meant something like "Allons" but that he had found out it was the horse's name.

It was getting dark when they came to the ford. Mr. Anderson yelled like an Indian and his call was answered by a real Indian yell. A moment later, two men appeared on the opposite bank.

"That's Joe and Pierre," said Mr. Waterman.

"How are we going to get across?" asked Pud.

"That's easy," said Mr. Waterman.

The driver answered Pud by driving the horse down the bank into the water. The stream ran swiftly and the horse put his head down sniffing the water as if frightened. The driver used the whip and the horse proceeded.

"The river's pretty high," yelled Mr. Waterman to Mr. Anderson. "You had better put those dunnage bags on the seat. That buggy of yours is lower than this one."

"All right," came back the cry, almost drowned by the noise of the carriage as it bumped on the rocks at the bottom of the river, the swish of the water and the noise of the horse's hoofs. Each took his dunnage bag on his lap and in the center of the river they had to lift up their feet as the water came into the body of the buggy. It almost seemed that they would be swept down the river. Bob looked at the driver and at Mr. Waterman. Both had a look of unconcern on their faces so Bob felt that things were all right. This turned out to be the case, for five minutes later the horse came out on a sort of sand bar. The driver drove down stream a little and then, putting the whip to the horse, they tore up a steep bank and along a wood road. They had gone only a little distance before they came to an opening where they found Joe and Pierre busy about a fire. The other buggy came up in a moment and everything was dumped out on the side of the road. Mr. Waterman had bought a lot of supplies and this was the real reason why the two guides had met them for they were needed to get the stuff back into the camp where they planned to stay for a week or more. After paying off the drivers, the latter turned and drove back.

"Are they going all the way back to Escoumains to-night?" asked Bob.

"Yes," said Mr. Anderson. "They will go back as far as that logging camp we passed about four miles away. There they will give their horses a little grain and as soon as the moon comes up they will be off, and back in Escoumains about midnight. Those little Canadian horses are very strong and can stand a lot of hard work."

Bob, Pud, and Bill stood around watching the guides and the two men as they busied themselves about the fire.

"Let's have supper first," said Mr. Waterman. "Afterwards we'll pack up the stores we have brought in and get them ready to carry so that we can make a real early start and get to our camp in Lac Parent in time for breakfast."

This was voted a good scheme by the others. Pierre was the guide that was most noticed by the boys. He was a full blooded Montagnais Indian and could not speak a word of English, though he talked French and his own Indian tongue. He was straight as an arrow and moved with the litheness and silence of the real Indian. Though his expression never changed, the boys could see that he missed nothing that went on about him. Joe was a little Frenchman. He could talk a little English and was very proud of that fact.

"The dinnaire is prepair," said he to Bob with a smile.

"Ah, that's the kind of French I can understand," said Pud, as he moved over towards the fire.

"Now be prepared to shout," said Mr. Anderson. "Here's some real trout caught within the hour and cooked as only Joe can cook them."

He gave each of the boys a whole trout out of the frying pan and this, with bread, butter, prunes and coffee, was their supper. The trout was hot and all three boys stated that they had never tasted anything better in their lives. They all meant it too. At their praise, Joe's face lighted up, for he was proud of his cooking. They formed a real woodsman picture as they sat or squatted around the fire eating their supper without the use of plates or a table. The picture was rather out of harmony, for the Indian and the Frenchman were the typical woodsmen, the two older men hardened fishermen, but even the merest novice could see that the three boys were unused to the woods and their present surroundings.

But, in any case, the scene was not lost on the boys. The bright light cast by the fire on the faces of the men and the dark shadows of the woods formed a contrast that was fascinating to the boys. They could not keep their eyes off Pierre with his silent but speedy movements, and his impassive face, nor from Joe, who formed such a contrast with his animation and gestures, his good-natured talk and his smile. Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson sat to the side talking in low tones, and the boys felt that these were two men worthy of their confidence. They looked as though they would be ready for any emergency that might arise. They were startled by a splash in the river. Pierre seemed to vanish as if by magic into the trees on the side towards the river. Though he went with great speed, the boys listened in vain to hear him tearing through the bushes. All ears were tensed but not a sound was heard.

"Pierre will let us know what it is," said Mr. Waterman in a matter-of-fact tone, as he motioned the boys to sit down again. "Don't worry, there's nothing up here to do us much harm. Even the bears run from us and it's necessary to hunt them carefully if you want to see one, though we see traces of them every day."

As they were talking, Pierre came back almost as quickly and silently as he had gone. He sat down by the fire and said about three words to Mr. Waterman and relapsed into silence again.

"'Big fish,' he says," translated Mr. Waterman.

"It sounded like a deer to me," said Mr. Anderson.

"We'll look for tracks in the morning before we leave," said Mr. Waterman.

He then turned to Pierre and talked to him in French.

"'No deer. Big fish,' he says," said Mr. Waterman as he turned around.

"Well, if he's sure of it, he's right," said Mr. Anderson. "They have ways of knowing some of these wood matters that seem uncanny to us."

"Well, let's get to bed," said Mr. Waterman.

They all turned to their dunnage bags and got out their sleeping bags. Pierre and Joe had only a blanket and they lay down by the fire, wrapping the blanket around their shoulders but otherwise making no further preparation.

"Is that the way they sleep all the time?" said Bob.

"No, they probably did not want to burden themselves with anything extra, as they have lots to carry to-morrow."

The guides had cut down some boughs and the boys soon had a fine bed ready. They were stretched out looking up at the stars in a very few moments and Bob felt that this was just the beginning of what promised to be a most interesting summer. For some time he lay there, watching lazily the fire as it occasionally threw into relief the green branches of the trees, or made the shadows deeper and more mysterious. It was not long, however, that he lay thus undisturbed, for the gnats, "les moustiques" as the guides called them, began to buzz around and made his life miserable. Over the fire, Bob had not been much bothered by this pest but further away they soon became unbearable.

"Ye gods!" said Pud, as he sat up in his blankets. "I'm getting eaten alive."

"Let's make a smudge," said Bob. "That will help some."

The two boys got up and soon had a real smudge throwing out a sickly smoke over their blankets. All this time Bill slept peacefully. It seemed that with his head buried in his blankets he was able to stand the gnats, but the smoke got him. Evidently a good puff got under his blankets, for he woke up suddenly and said in a choked voice,

"What in sin's going on? I'm choking. What's the idea?"

Just then a swarm of gnats enveloped his head and he ducked under his blankets. No more was said, for Bill knew why the smoke was there. All three covered up their heads and were soon asleep. It got real cold in the middle of the night and the gnats became too torpid to move. The boys slept like logs for they were tired. It could not have been more than four o'clock when the cheery voice of Mr. Waterman was heard calling them up.

"Out of your blankets, boys. We're going all the way to Lac Parent before breakfast and that will take some hiking."

In a few minutes, the camp was a scene of the greatest activity. The guides filled large dunnage bags with the provisions that had been brought in. This was soon done and the boys had also packed their blankets in their bags.

"Is everything ready?" asked Mr. Waterman.

"I think so," said Mr. Anderson. "You boys will have about all you can handle to carry in your dunnage bags. We'll manage the rest all right, I guess."

The guides led off after loading themselves with two large bags. Each of them carried at least one hundred and fifty pounds. The Indian seemed to handle his load with the greatest ease. He looked back and helped the boys adjust their bags more comfortably, or so that they would carry more easily. They had gone only a half mile when they came to a small lake. It was only a quarter mile across it, but the guides had canoes there. The loads were soon in the boats and they got the other side very quickly. Then to the surprise of the boys, the Indian and Mr. Waterman got the packs on their backs and then, lifting the canoes, they got them over their shoulders and away they went.

"Gee whizz!" said Bill. "I thought you two had a big load on before but you walk away with those canoes with ease."

"There's a great knack in carrying canoes," said Mr. Waterman.

"That's all right," said Pud. "But those two men must have at least two hundred pounds on their backs and they are going right along."

"I'll admit," said Mr. Anderson, "that they have a larger load than usual, but they are not going far and we'll relieve them on the next portage."

The way led up across a ridge. Part of it was rather steep and the boys found themselves panting as they got to the top and began the descent to the next little lake beyond. They found Mr. Waterman and Pierre already there and with the canoes in the water.

"That was some pull," said Mr. Waterman. "Pierre is in better condition than I am. He doesn't seem to mind it a bit, but I found that a little heavy before breakfast."

"We'll help with the dunnage on the next portage," said Bob. "My bag does not feel very heavy. Let me try the canoe."

"I'll let you have the canoe," said Mr. Waterman, "but I'll take your stuff."

This was done. Mr. Waterman showed Bob how to arrange the paddles so that they would rest on his shoulders. He also showed him the use of the small rope that Bob had noticed along the middle stay of the canoe. This was put over the head so that when the canoe was rightly placed Bob was carrying it on his shoulders, his forearms and also his head. He found the weight well distributed and he walked away like a veteran. He found it awkward work at first to keep to the trail and to avoid bumping the canoe into the trees. He soon got used to this and went along finely. He had no trouble until they got to the top of the little divide between the two lakes and started down. They had gone down only a little piece before he stepped on a piece of slippery moss, his feet flew out from under him, and down he came with the canoe on top of him. Rather crestfallen, he got up and began to arrange the paddles, etc., in place again.

"Had a tumble?" said Mr. Waterman. "That was because you didn't have the weight well balanced coming down the hill. You'll soon learn. Do you need any help with the canoe?"

"No, I think that I can manage," said Bob.

He then caught hold of the gunwales of the canoe and started to lift it over his head, but he plunged forward and down came the canoe again.

"Let me help you this time," said Mr. Waterman. "When we get to camp and get rid of these packs, I'll show you just how to do it. It's easy when you know how."

Bob once more had the canoe on his shoulders and arrived at the next lake without further mishap. They found every one waiting for them. They were soon across and after one more portage, they reached Lac Parent. Far down the lake, they saw smoke rising.

"Jean is waiting for us," said Mr. Anderson to Mr. Waterman.

"Is there another guide?" asked Bob.

"Oh, yes," replied Mr. Waterman. "We have Pierre's son with us. He was told to have breakfast ready for us at six o'clock and I'll bet he's been waiting for some time, as it has taken us a little longer than I expected to get here."

The two canoes sped down the lake. The boys looked around with much interest. There was a real mountain on the far shore of the lake, part of which came down to the water very precipitously. The small islands in the lake made it more picturesque. They soon rounded a point of land and came full on the camp lying before them. With its line of tents, the smoke curling up from the fire, and the beauty of the forests in the background, it made a scene that would rejoice any fisherman's eye. As they came to the shore, Jean came running down. He was a big fellow for his age, seventeen. He had very regular features like his father, and was remarkably well built.

The boys landed and one and all felt that at last they were fairly in the woods and ready for whatever might befall.