“All right, Ethel,” said Jim. “See there, Jane,” he continued, “that neck of land across the traverse--that's where the old Hudson Bay trail used to run that goes from the Big Lakes to Winnipeg. It's the old war trail of the Crees too. Wouldn't you like to have seen them in the old days?” “I would run and hide,” said Isabel, “so they could not see me.” “I would not be afraid,” said Helen, straightening up to her full height of six years. “I would shoot them dead.” “Poor things,” said Jane, in a pitiful voice. “And then their little babies at home would cry and cry.” Helen looked distressed. “I would not shoot the ones that had babies.” “But then,” said Jane, “the poor wives would sit on the ground and wail and wail, like the Indians we heard the other night. Oh, it sounded very sad.” “I would not shoot the ones with wives or babies or anything,” said Helen, determined to escape from her painful dilemma. “Oh, only the boys and young men?” said Jane. “And then the poor old mothers would cry and cry and tear their hair for the boys who would never come back.” Helen stood in perplexed silence. Then she said shyly, “I wouldn't shoot any of them unless they tried to shoot me or Mother or Daddy.” “Or me,” said Jane, throwing her arms around the little girl. “Yes,” said Helen, “or you, or anybody in our house.” “That seems a perfectly safe place to leave it, Helen,” said Ethel. “I think even the most pronounced pacifist would accept that as a justification of war. I fancy that is why poor little Servia is fighting big bullying Austria to-day. But run down now; hurry, hurry; the launch will be ready in a few minutes, and if you are not ready you know Daddy won't wait.” But they were ready and with the round dozen, which with the visitors constituted the Murray household at their island home, they filled the launch, Jim at the wheel. It was a glorious Sunday morning and the whole world breathed peace. Through the mazes of the channels among the wooded islands the launch made its way, across open traverse, down long waterways like rivers between high, wooded banks, through cuts and gaps, where the waters boiled and foamed, they ran, for the most part drinking in silently the exquisite and varied beauty of lake and sky and woods. Silent they were but for the quiet talk and cheery laughter of the younger portion of the company, until they neared the little town, when the silence that hung over the lake and woods was invaded by other launches outbound and in. The Kenora docks were crowded with rowboats, sailboats, canoes and launches of all sorts and sizes, so that it took some steering skill on Jim's part to land them at the dock without bumping either themselves or any one else. “Oh, look!” exclaimed Isabel, whose sharp eyes were darting everywhere. “There's the Rushbrooke's lovely new launch. Isn't it beautiful!” “Huh!” shouted Helen. “It is not half as pretty as ours.”