This period of waiting was very tedious to the lads. The snow was becoming soft and wet, the woods were sloppy, and had less of attraction than in the crisp cold weather of midwinter. One night in May a heavy rain set in, and for a week it fell in a steady downpour. The snow became slush, and when the sun came out again, now warm and balmy, much of the ground was bare, and Moose Lake was nearly clear of ice. “Now for the canoe and the homestretch,” announced Amesbury, upon looking out upon the water and clear sky. “Tomorrow we’ll start. What do you fellows say to that?” “Bully!” exclaimed Paul. “I can hardly wait for the time when I’ll get home.” “’T will be fine t’ be afloat ag’in,” said Dan, “an’ I’m wantin’ wonderful bad t’ see Mother an’ Dad, an’ tell ’em about my cruise.” “I thought you’d be ready to go. Big tales you chaps will have to tell of your adventures. I almost wish I were going with you,” and Amesbury looked wistfully down over the lake. “Why you are, aren’t you?” asked Paul. “Yes, as far as Winnipeg, to be sure. I want to see you chaps safe aboard the train. Couldn’t take chances on your getting mixed up in any more trouble,” he laughed. “Can’t you come on to New York with us?” asked Paul eagerly. “Oh, I wish you could.” “New York is a long way off, and a rough old trapper like me wouldn’t know what to do in a big city like that.” “Yes, you would! I do wish you’d go home with me!” Amesbury shook his head. “No, I’m better off here, and I wouldn’t do New York any good.” “Now I’m wonderin’ how I’ll be gettin’ home,” suggested Dan. “I’ve been wonderin’ an’ wonderin’. I’m all out o’ my reckonin’, goin’ different from th’ way I comes, an’ cruisin’ around.” “Why,” explained Amesbury, “you’ll travel with Paul until he gets off and leaves you, and then you’ll keep going on the train until the conductor puts you off, and you take another train. I’ll tag you so you can’t go astray,” he added, laughing. “No,” protested Paul, “Dan’s going right through to New York with me, and my father’ll see that he gets home all right.” “That’s a good plan,” assented Amesbury. “Then I won’t have to tag you, and you won’t get lost.” “But I’m thinkin’,” said Dan, “I’ll be stoppin’ off t’ St. Johns, an’ not be goin’ on t’ New York. I’m wantin’ wonderful bad t’ get home.” “You’re going home with me first,” Paul insisted. “My father and mother have just got to see you. I want to tell them how you saved my life.” “Yes,” Amesbury laughed, “I’m inclined to agree with Paul, and New York won’t take you so much out of your way. St. Johns is farther off than New York, and you can go on from New York by steamer, and perhaps get there just as soon.” “I’m losin’ my bearin’s altogether,” declared Dan, looking much puzzled.