Having eaten, they rose and pressed on with a happy sense of refreshment. A thought of it was to brighten many a less cheerful hour. Half a mile from their camping-place they found a smooth trail which led across level country to the Middle Branch. Socky and Sue were again fast asleep on the bottom of the boat-jumper long before they reached the river. When they halted near its bank a broad stream of deep, slow water lay before them. Strong unhitched the ox and led him along shore until he came to rapids where, half a mile below, the river took its long, rocky slope to lower country. There he tethered his ox and returned to fetch the others. He launched his boat-jumper and got aboard and paddled carefully down-stream. Having doubled a point, they came in sight of a slim boy who stood by the water's edge aiming an ancient, long-barrelled gun. His head, which rested against the breech, seemed, as the Emperor reported, "'bout the size of a pippin." "E-look out!" Strong shouted, as the boy lowered his gun to regard the travellers with an expression of deep concern. "See any mushrats?" the boy asked, eagerly. "N-no; who're you?" "Jo Henyon." Strong had heard of old Henyon, who was known familiarly as "Mushrat Bill." For years Bill had haunted the Middle Branch. "Wh-where d' ye live?" "Yender," said the boy, pointing downstream as he ran ahead of them. Presently they came to an old cabin near the water's edge with a small clearing around it. A woman wearing a short skirt and Shaker bonnet stood on one leg looking down at them. Children were rushing out of the cabin door. "My land! where's her other leg?" Sinth mused. The Emperor looked thoughtfully at the strange woman. "F-folks are like cranes over in this c-country," Strong answered. "Always rest on one leg." He drove his bow on a sloping, sandy beach. The woman hopped into the cabin door. Her many children hurried to the landing. A man with head and feet bare followed them. An old undershirt, one suspender, and a tattered pair of overalls partly covered his body. He walked slowly towards the shore. He was the famous trapper of the Middle Branch. "F-fur to Rainbow T-Trail?" Strong inquired of him. The latter put his hand to his ear and said, "What?" Strong repeated his query in a much louder voice. "Fur ain't very thick," the stranger answered. Strong perceived that the man was very deaf and also that he was devoted to one idea. "B-big fam'ly," he shouted, as he began to push off. The trapper, with his hand to his ear and still looking a bit doubtful, answered, "Ain't runnin' very big this year." Thereafter the word "mushrats," in the vocabulary of Strong, stood for unworthy devotion to a single purpose.