flicker of a smile played at the corners of his set mouth.
"Many snows I hunt dat country. My fader hunt dat country, an' hees fader, I know eet lak' I know my tepee out dere on de lak' shore."
"There ain't a lake or hill in the Kabenakagami country that David don't know," broke in the factor. "He was born there and his ancestors were born there and hunted it. You can depend on what David tells you about the Kabenakagami and Flaming River country."
The eyes of the old Ojibway softened.
"Well, the man who made this flying survey knows his business," grunted McDuff to John Gordon, his assistant, "but if he was close to the freeze-up and had to get out in a hurry, he may have guessed at these lakes flowing into the Flaming River, when he worked up his notes with the topographer. The Agricultural Survey sure made a mess of their western Ontario map, but they hardly made a compass survey and plotted a great deal by hearsay."
"I should say so," nodded Cameron; "the man who follows the Nepigon Trail to the Albany with that map will sure leave his bones in the bush. It don't show half the network of lakes you travel through, and water running two ways out of 'em at that."
The government engineer turned to old David, who had been an interested listener.
"David, I want you and your sons as guides until the freeze-up. Will you come with us?"
