CHAPTER VII. 
OUT OF THE FEYING-PAN. 
OUR friends slept well that night, 
— or morning, rather, — it was ten 
o'clock before the camp was fairly 
astir. Teddy begged to come ashore 
at last, and complained bitterly of 
the " muskayters," wdio, he said, 
made such a noise about his ears 
that he was awake all the time he 
was sleeping. 
Jim waded out to the raft to bring him in. The 
Indian was observed to stoop and examine something 
closely near the end of one of the logs. He brought 
Teddy to land on his back, and then handed Mr. Dutton 
a fragment of a peculiar-shaped arrow, which he said he 
had found sticking in the raft. 
" What do you make of it, Joe ? " asked Mr. Dutton. 
The two Indians examined the ugly-looking shaft nar- 
rowly, and exchanged a few guttural remarks in their own 
tongue. Jim gave the verdict, laconically, as usual. 
" Ayan moose arrow." 
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