TREED BY A MOOSE. 
29 
Indian guides, strong-limbed, quiet fellows, named Joe 
and Jim. 
At Mr. Button's word, these two last named threw 
down their heavy packs, and drew themselves up with an 
air of relief. 
Ugh I " grunted Joe, wiping his forehead. " Much 
hot comin'. No-see-' ems and skeeters dis night." 
" Midges ? Have you felt any, Joe ? " asked Mr. 
Button, recognizing the Indian term for those tiny 
tormentors. 
" No feel 'em. Smell 'em," said Joe, gravely, sniffing 
the air. 
Mr. Button laughed, and turned his attention to select- 
ing a good ^'nooning" spot where they could spend the 
hottest hours of the day. 
They had halted beside a swift-running stream, whose 
waters, though white with glacial silt, promised sport for 
Hugh, the fisherman of the party. All around them was 
a forest of immense spruce trees, through which they had 
been travelling since early morning. The ground was 
everywhere covered with thick moss, and long, gray 
streamers hung from the lofty boughs overhead. 
" I tell you what, father ! " exclaimed Robert, with 
enthusiasm, 'Hhis would be a jolly place to camp in for 
a week. There's plenty of water, and I'll warrant the 
woods are full of game." 
A good place enough, Rob, but we've no time to lose. 
The mosquitoes are getting thicker and hungrier every 
