224 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



greased patches of proper size, putting new strings on 

 the ear-laps of my cap, overhauling my mittens, exam- 

 ining suspenders and buttons, and doing all those little 

 things which men wholly cut off from the deft hand of 

 woman must do for themselves in their own bungling 

 way or have a breakdown when there is neither time 

 nor opportunity for repairs. It is wonderful what a man 

 can do when thrown on his own resources, when there is 

 the same imperative word "must" which always con- 

 fronts the soldier. He must, or 



Rolling up in my blankets, I fully expected some 

 adventure or visitation before morning, but nothing hap- 

 pened. Three nights passed in this way. I fished, cut 

 firewood and busied myself with other things, but always 

 with a thought of Antoine. He was a long time coming; 

 perhaps he might be caught in the bear trap there was 

 a big one on his line or perhaps he might be crippled 

 by some accident and be starving! He did not come, 

 and these thoughts by repetition became probabilities. 

 I filled my sack with provisions and shouldered my rifle. 

 I would meet him on the back track, and I followed his 

 returning trail all day and crossed the divide between 

 his two streams and crawled into his camp at night. His 

 trail was plain, although I had never been over it before. 

 He had rigged a sleeping place beside a huge log, and 

 had made a shelter with poles and brush. A bed of 

 leaves was inviting, and I rolled into my blankets and 

 slept until morning. 



He had not left the trail so far that was plain. After 

 breakfast I started down his line on the other stream, 

 and after a few miles found one of his dead-falls broken. 

 Here was the first evidence of the robber. Further on I 

 found where Antoine had left the trail and gone off to 

 leeward, and had made himself a sort of breastwork camp 



