"I dunno," commented black York, shaking his woolly head dubiously. "A monster white b'ar done hab dat place already."
For York had been chased clear into camp by a bear; and when the captain had taken three men and gone out to find the bear it had driven another of the hunters, John Collins, into the river.
"Nice quiet place to camp," spoke Dick Windsor.
A quantity of the baggage and one canoe were loaded upon one of the little wagons, and led by the two captains, the men ranged themselves before and behind, to haul and push. Away they went, with the wagon jolting and creaking, and threatening to fall apart.
Chaboneau and York and Peter had been left here at Portage Creek to care for Sa-ca-ja-we-a again. The Bird-woman had improved so much that she was able to walk about—but thereupon she had eaten a lot of dried fish and little ground apples (pomme blanc: white apple, Chaboneau called it), which had made her ill once more and also had made the captains very angry at Chaboneau and at Peter too. The Bird-woman was hard to control; she thought she ought to eat, to get well.
In the morning Captain Clark came back down with all the men except Sergeant Pat, Joe Fields and John Shields, after another load. The wagon had broken on the trip up, and they had had to carry the baggage half a mile on their backs. They were very tired.
