Within an hour a high bluff came into view a mile down the stream, and the lads, who were getting both hungry and tired, expected to find a good camp-site. In this hope they were disappointed. The current surged along past the tree-trunks where rafts of driftwood and rubbish had collected, while masses of dirty white foam were held by the dead wood and rubbish. The place did not look in the least inviting, and the boys looked in vain for a clear bubbling spring.
“Where are the springs, Mr. Barker?” Tim asked timidly.
“Well, my boy,” the old man replied, “I reckon they are covered by the flood.”
“What shall we do for a camping-place?” Bill asked.
“Then we camp at a place that does not suit us,” the trapper replied dryly. “Traveling down-river isn’t like living in town. We’ll just take things as they come.”
About five o’clock they came to a place where a small creek came in from the west.
“Bill, you had better steer into this bay,” the trapper suggested. “We’ll camp there for the night.”
“It isn’t a good place, Mr. Barker,” Tim ventured to say. “Look at all the dirty driftwood and the willow-bushes. We are getting into a swamp where there can’t be any springs.”
The trapper smiled. “May be,” he said to Tim, “we’ll find a good place and perhaps a spring, too. Everybody go slow now. Look out for snags, Bill, and let us land near the foot of that big ash.”
Within a few minutes all heavy packs were taken out of the canoe and the craft itself was turned over in a dry spot high above the water.
There was not only one spring, there were several coming out of the hillside and running into the small flooded creek.
“I knew we would find good water up this creek,” the trapper told the boys.
“How could you tell!” the lads wondered. “Have you ever been here?”
“No, I have never seen this place before, but I have seen many groves of black-ash and they only grow in cold, springy ravines. Wherever you see the slim gray trunks and the short spreading branches of black-ash you can find springs. Sometimes the flow is small and you have to dig out a little pool for your well, but good cool water always seeps and flows around the roots of the black-ash.”
Like every good leader, Barker had each man assigned to some special camp duty.