Their objective point was on the shore of Trout Lake, a lovely sheet of water distant from Nipissing about four miles. The road was in many places extremely bad and the team made slow progress, but there was plenty of time to spare and about noon they reached the lake. The guide, as guides are given to do, lied cheerfully and insistently every yard of the way, about the beauty of the lake, the countless deer and grouse upon its shores, the gigantic fish within its ice-cold depths, the game he, and parties he had guided, had killed, and the fish they had caught. He did well with these minor subjects, but when he touched upon moose and bear he rose to the sublime, and lied with a wild abandon which made Moeran seriously consider the advantage of upsetting the canoe later on and quietly drowning him. But he was not so far astray in his description of the lake. It formed a superb picture, stretching its narrow length for a dozen miles between huge, rolling, magnificently wooded hills, while here and there lovely islands spangled its silver breast. After a hurried lunch they launched the good canoe, the guide insisting upon taking his rifle, as, according to his story, they were almost certain to see one or more bear. The guide proved that he could paddle almost as well as he could lie, and the two of them drove the light craft along like a scared thing, the paddles rising and falling, flashing and disappearing, with that beautiful, smooth, regular sweep that only experts can give. For mile after mile they sped along, until at last they neared the farther end of the lake, where the huge hills dwindled to mere scattered mounds, between which spread broad beaver meadows, the nearest of them having a pond covering many acres near its center. All about this pond was a dense growth of tall water-grasses, and in many places these grasses extended far into the water which was almost covered, save a few open leads, with the round, crowding leaves of the water-lily. A channel, broad and deep enough to float the canoe, connected this pond with the lake, and, as the locality was an ideal summer haunt for moose, Moeran decided to investigate it thoroughly and read such “sign” as might be found. Landing noiselessly, he and the guide changed places, Moeran kneeling, forward, with the rifle on the bottom of the canoe in front of him, where he alone could reach it. “Now,” he whispered, “you know the route and how to paddle; work her up as if a sound would cost your life. I'll do the watching.” [Illustration: 0112]