The next night, Bob visited the guides' tent after supper and he did not return to the others until nearly ten o'clock.

"What did you find so interesting up there with the guides?" asked Bill.

"Nothing much," replied Bob. "Pierre was telling me how he nearly lost his life landing a big salmon on the Shipshaw River one summer."

"Let's hear the story," demanded Pud.

"It's too late to-night but I'll tell it to you to-morrow night if you want me to," replied Bob.

The next evening it was raining, so a fire had been built outside of Bob's shelter tent. The boys were leaning back inside, all the more comfortable because of the dreary conditions outside. In spite of the rain, the birch logs burned brightly though accompanied by hissing, as big drops of rain came down now and then from the pines overhead.

"This is a good night to do murder or some other light occupation," said Pud to the others.

"Why not tell us that fish story of Pierre's now?" queried Bill.

"That's a good idea," said Pud.

"All right," answered Bob, "but I really wish I could give you the story just as Pierre told it to me, with the sidelights of Indian philosophy and the natural expressions of wood lore that made his story much more piquant and picturesque than mine could ever be. Anyway, I'll do the best I can.

"It seems that one summer he was sent out by one of the big lumber companies to scout for timber. He was told to get another Indian or two and go up the Shipshaw River and report the growth of timber near the water, whether he thought it could be rafted down or not, and any other information that would be valuable for the lumber companies. He took along two nephews of his, named Jean and Jacques, and an old Indian, named Montagnais because he was reputed to be the head chief of the tribe of that name to which all the Indians of that part of the country belonged. The old Indian told Pierre before he started that there was plenty of big timber in the Shipshaw Valley but that he would find it practically impossible to raft it down. Pierre told the lumber company this but they desired him to go anyway, stating that they wished to find out definitely about the matter that summer.

"They started off and took the steamer to Chicoutimi at the head of the Saguenay River. They there got into their canoes and were soon going up the Shipshaw. They found this river one of great volume, and they had many long portages to make and much fast water to pole up. It took them over three weeks of hard paddling and portaging to get near its source. At last they got as far up as the valley as Pierre thought was necessary. It was Pierre's idea that on the way down, they would stop off every few miles and go back into the country to look over the woods This they did, and, of course, this made their progress down rather slow.

"One day they came on a real Indian encampment at the foot of the rapids, and as it was near evening they determined to stop and enjoy the company of their brother tribesmen for the night. They found the Indians very glad to see them. They told them that they had wintered far to the north of the Great Divide and that they planned to get down to the St. Lawrence and in touch with white people and civilization once more. Later in the evening, they learned that the little party had stayed at that one place for three full days, because the chief was determined to catch a big salmon that had tantalized him during that time. This salmon had been seen by all of them, as he lived in a big pool at the head of some rapids only a short distance down the river. It was then too dark to show this big fish to Pierre and his companions, but early the next morning, Pierre was down at the pool. He looked over a big rock into the pool, that was formed by a back eddy, and, sure enough, there was an especially large salmon swimming about in the quiet water. In another moment, Pierre had out his fishing tackle, but to no avail. The big salmon would have nothing to do with anything Pierre offered him. He tried one fly after another, but without effect. It seemed as if the big salmon despised his efforts. As if in defiance, every now and then the fish would swoop up to the surface and jump two or three feet out of the water.

"Pierre grew stubborn. All that day, he stayed by the pool, either he himself fishing or watching the old chief try every while to entice the giant salmon to take that hook. At night they all returned to camp and told stories of phantom fish that could not be caught except by black magic. They came to the conclusion finally that the big fish must be one of that kind, with something uncanny about him, and they decided that it would be bad medicine to try to catch him. Pierre was the only one that dissented from this.

"He got up even before dawn the next morning and was early down at the pool. He procured a little pitch and some black flies and stuck them together in such a way that, when they were thrown on the water, they looked just like a half dozen flies floating down the stream. He got out his smallest leader and fastened a hook among the flies. When he had finished, it looked very lifelike and Pierre was proud of his handiwork. Carefully approaching the stream without making any noise or permitting any shadow to fall on the water, he threw his semi-artificial fly far out on the stream, so that the back eddy would ultimately bring it into the pool. Sure enough, the little black spot on the water whirled around and finally floated calmly and slowly around the pool. Twice it made the circuit and Pierre had just about decided that he was doomed to disappointment again, when he saw a streak fly into the air and his reel fairly sang as it spun around. Unfortunately something jammed and the rod was jerked out of his hands. Pierre saw it disappear over the edge of the rock, but he was after it and just caught the end of the rod as it was being dragged under. Pierre held on like grim death. In another minute he found himself out in the river and a moment later he was in the powerful current at the head of the rapids. Even yet he had time to get to shore but, with his usual obstinacy, he held on. A minute later he was going down the rapids, doing his best to keep his head above water, but with the line wound tightly around his arm. It was now a fight for life, and he had no time to think of the fish. Down he went, carried hither and thither by the powerful currents. He knew that each moment might be his last but he struggled on. Once he believed he heard a shout and thought he caught a glimpse of a canoe shooting after him, but the noise of the water and his fearful struggle to keep from being dashed upon the rocks that lined the river made this appear more like a dream than a reality.

"He was on the point of exhaustion when he swung around a bend of the river and found himself in quiet water. In one sense he was saved, for he had come through the rapids safely, but in another he was just at the beginning of his struggle for he was practically exhausted and at least a half mile from shore. He lay back on the water and closed his eyes, feeling that he could never reach land. Just then he heard a call, and his two nephews swung around the point and made for him. They pulled him into their canoe and paddled for the shore. When they reached there, they started to carry Pierre up on the beach, but found the line tied around his arm. They disentangled this to find that the pole was still at the one end of the line. They then started to reel in and in a moment they felt a weight pulling on the line. They pulled warily, and a minute later the big salmon came into view. Pierre had caught him after all. Whether he was drowned by being pulled down the rapids, whether he had hit a rock when entangled in the line, or for whatever reason, the fact remained that the line had held and that the big fish was brought safely ashore.

"Jean proposed that they should camp there that day to celebrate the occasion. Pierre was secretly very glad to do so, for he really was all in, not only because of his great exertion in coming down the rapids, but also because of the many bruises he had received from the rocks. He asked his nephews how they had come along so luckily to his rescue. They replied that they were just on their way to get a last look at the big fish when they saw him plunge over the rock by the side of the pool and then go down the rapids. He was some quarter mile ahead of them and they could not get near him in the rapids. They kept on going, however, although they were afraid that he would hit his head on some sharp rock and be drowned.

"One of the nephews then went up the river by the portage trail, and in another hour the small tribe and the old Montagnais chief were gathered around Pierre, hearing of his remarkable escape from death in the rapids and his more remarkable catch of the giant salmon. They roasted the fish for dinner and had a great feast in honor of the occasion. Pierre stated that this was the biggest salmon he had ever seen and that it was just luck that he had caught it. He gave himself some credit for the bait that had tempted the fish, but otherwise he felt that it was only luck that had brought the fish down through the rapids with him."

Bob stopped here and looked out at the rain which was still coming down steadily.

"Pierre has had some adventures in his life," said Bill.

"He told me another story about that trip up the Shipshaw, and though I tried to explain it to him, he could not see it," said Bob.

"What was that?" asked Pud.

"According to Pierre the Good Spirit showed that he was displeased at him for catching the fish. As they were going down a wide reach of the river two days later they saw a big pearshaped black object rise into view over the hilltops. It sailed on over them and just as it was above them, it dropped a rock which went right through Pierre's canoe. If the other canoe had not been near, they would not have had time to save anything. As it was, they saved all their duffle, and, going ashore, they soon had the canoe in shape again. Pierre felt that the Great Spirit had thus reminded him of his sacrilege in killing the big spirit fish. I tried to tell Pierre that he had seen a big balloon, and I called to mind that in that very year a big balloon had floated far into the wilderness. Pierre would have no such explanation. To him, the big object was a direct visitation of the Great Spirit, It completely terrorized, him and his mates, and he said that he would always remember it."

Here Bob paused and Pud took occasion to ask:

"Did Pierre get back all right after his trip?"

"Oh, yes; though he had one more experience that was not very pleasant," said Bob.

"What was that?" asked Bill.

"As I have already mentioned, they got out of their canoes and went inland every few miles to scout around and see what timber was in the little valleys leading off the main valley of the Shipshaw. On one of these occasions, Pierre and the old Indian went off on one side of the river, and the two others on the opposite side. They had only one rifle between them, for they were not out hunting and had taken it along merely from habit. Pierre had the gun, while the old Indian went ahead with his easy stride. Though over sixty years of age, he was noted as one of the best walkers and sturdiest paddlers in the country. He led the way and Pierre came after, thinking hard about the displeasure of the Great Spirit as shown by the sinking of his canoe. They broke through a very narrow ravine and came upon a she-bear with three cubs. The sight of the Indians angered the bear and she made a rush for them.

"Pierre was not able to fire for a moment as Montagnais was right in his path. At Pierre's yell, the old Indian stepped back and the gun belched forth almost in the bear's face. The ball did not take effect and did nothing except to add fury to the mad rush of the bear. She swept Pierre aside ripping his shoulder with her claws, and caught Montagnais fairly in the chest. The latter went down without a cry. Fortunately, Pierre's shoulder was not very badly hurt and he had not dropped his gun. He slipped another cartridge into the rifle and gave the bear her quietus by hitting her right behind the shoulder and striking her heart. Pierre then looked at his old Indian friend and saw that he had received a very bad wound. Several ribs were evidently broken, while the chest bone seemed to be caved in. Pierre hastened to a nearby brook and got some water in a hastily improvised birch bucket. The water brought Montagnais to his senses, but a broken ankle made it impossible for him to move. He was evidently in great pain.

"In the excitement, Pierre had done nothing for himself and did not do so until he finally commenced to feel giddy and came near fainting. He then tore off his shirt and found that his weakness was due to loss of blood. He bound up his arm and sat down to rest and to think what to do. He tried to carry the old Indian, but soon gave that up, both because he was too weakened to do so and because the great pain caused by moving his old friend made the latter faint. There was nothing to do except to stay with his friend and wait for Jean and Jacques to hunt them up, or else to get to the river and bring them back. He thought that the latter would be the better plan, so he made Montagnais as comfortable as he could, propping him up against the old bear and giving him the rifle as defense. The cubs by this time had gotten over their scare and they came back to their mother and smelled around her with little whines and moans that were almost childlike. He left Montagnais leaning against the old bear with a cub on each side of him. They were quite little and as harmless as kittens.

"Pierre found that he must have lost a lot of blood for he had some difficulty in getting back to the river. At last he reached there, and in due course of time Jean and Jacques came paddling across the river, singing a low Indian love song, happy as any children of the forest should be when in their native haunt on a fine summer's day. They were all attention when they saw Pierre and were ready to start at once even without their suppers. This Pierre did not let them do as he felt that he himself would not be able to get back to his old friend without some nourishment. The two young Indians hurried things along and Pierre felt much better by the time supper was over. They then started off and, though by this time night had fallen, Pierre led them straight to the gully and found old Montagnais quietly sleeping with the three cubs lying around him. They built a fire and examined the injuries of the old man. He was now quite conscious and he told Pierre and the others just how badly he was hurt and what they would have to do to get him out.

"Under his directions, they built a leafy litter and as soon as dawn showed the way, they carried him back to the river. They felt that it would be best to rest there for a few days. Jean and Jacques made a trip back to the gully and returned with the bear's skin, as much bear meat as they could handle, and the three cubs following them like puppies. By the end of their week's stay, the old Indian was able to sit up and he said that he would be able to do his share if they got him into the canoe. Pierre stayed three days more and then set out. It required skillful paddling for him to make some of the rapids but finally they emerged once more upon the bosom of the wide Saguenay. In due time, Pierre got back to Escoumains and made his report about the lumber."

"Now, I know why Pierre was not very anxious to go up the Shipshaw with me two years ago," said Mr. Waterman. "He told me that he had been up the river but he did not want to go again."

"He was no doubt thinking of the balloon," said Bill.

"Do you think it was a balloon?" asked Pud.

"It undoubtedly was," said Mr. Waterman. "The very year that Pierre went up the Shipshaw, they held a long distance balloon race starting away over in the United States. One of the balloons was carried away to the east of the Saguenay and the two pilots did not get back to civilization for over two weeks. They had a very hard time for they had to tramp out. The remains of the big balloon are up there in the wilderness and have probably more than once aroused the astonishment and amazement of wandering Indians."

"Maybe no one has found them," said Pud.

"That's quite probable, for you know that we have been up here for quite some time, and we haven't seen anything of them," said Mr. Waterman.

The rain still came down but, sheltered as they were, they rather enjoyed it. They talked for some time and then dispersed to their various tents.

Bob and Bill were together. Just before turning in, Bob put two big logs on the fire and they lay down in their blankets watching the fitful flames that darted feebly up into the rain.

"We're lucky to-night that we're not out on a trip," said Bill.

"How so?" asked Bob.

"Well," replied Bill, "if we were on a trip we should not have this shelter tent along and we should stand a good chance to get a soaking."

"I shouldn't mind that much," said Bob. "But don't you remember that last trip? We had a rainy night then and we did not get very wet. Our sleeping bags kept us just as dry as punk all night, though I could hear the rain beating down like sin on my head."

"That's true," said Bill. "These sleeping bags are great stuff. All the same, I'm glad I'm here to-night."

"Are you going to keep the fire going to-night?" asked Bob sleepily.

"Yes, if I happen to wake up," said Bill. "I'm nearest the fire and I'll just throw on a log if I can reach one without getting out of my bag."

"I've seen to that," said Bob. "You can reach these logs easily enough. Don't bother to do it though unless you wake. Needn't keep it on your mind."

"Don't worry. I'm as sleepy as the dickens now, so I shall probably not bat an eyelid until morning."

"Good-night," said Bob as he rolled over.

"Pleasant dreams," said Bill in answer.

Ten minutes later the only sign of life about that part of the woods was the fire which blazed up now and then, only to be put down when a breeze knocked a lot of big drops from the trees.