Roy’s story was soon told. Pop marveled much and examined the boy’s wounds with care, treating them with the antiseptic they had brought along. When Roy’s tale was finished, Teddy sprang his bit of news. “We found the canoe!” Roy’s eyes opened wide. “You mean to say there is anything left of it?” “Sure, there is!” Bug Eye exclaimed. “We can fix her up in no time! She’s got quite a hole in her, but Pop can mend that. Hey, Pop?” “Betcher boots,” the veteran rancher replied, as he grinned. “I am one grand little fixer. Let’s take another look at it.” Roy, clothed “in assembled finery,” as Bug Eye said, was delighted when he saw that the craft was not irreparably damaged. It had been washed ashore a short distance below the rock, and, aside from the hole in the stern, it was as good as ever. “Guess dad’ll be at Jake Trummer’s by now,” Teddy declared. “But we’ll soon have the old boat on the way. Give your orders, Pop! You can be the boss carpenter. What do we do first?” “Get out that strip of canvas,” Pop suggested. “Where’s yore knife, Roy? Snakes, you ain’t washed it yet!” He took it from the boy and looked at it silently. Darkening the blades was dried blood--the blood of the eagle. Sticking to the blade were a few tiny, grey feathers. Pop held it in the palm of his hand and nodded his head slowly. “There’s not many knives that can say they killed an eagle,” he said musingly. “This’ll make a great token, Roy.” Then his voice took on a businesslike tone again. The incident was over. The chapter closed. Pop bent down, inserted the blade in the canvas, and drew it along with a ripping sound. Soon all four were deep in their task. The hole had to be well mended, as the rapids were still ahead of them and the rocks would search hungrily for a weak spot on which to fasten their needle-like fingers. Pop went about the job slowly and deliberately, and it was afternoon before it was finished to his satisfaction. “Might as well eat,” Bug Eye said as he straightened up and threw his shoulders back to get the kinks out. “Somehow I never did get over that there habit. So you had roast porcupine this morning, Roy? Well, we can’t promise you that, but we have got some pork an’ beans left unless Pop eat ’em all. You feel all right now, Roy?” “Sure I do!” The boy flexed his muscles. “Those cuts have stiffened up a little, but they’ll soon work out. Yea, Bug Eye, I feel great! I’m mighty hungry, though.” “You can do the paddlin’,” Teddy remarked with a grin. “And if you see a rock, duck!” Unconsciously the boy’s healthy mind was bringing to the fore the events of that fear-ridden night just passed, and instead of hiding them deep in the recesses of the subconscious, later to emerge as tangled emotions, Teddy was baring them and destroying their power to haunt. Of course he did not realize all this. He knew only that an unpleasant experience cannot be forcibly forgotten--that it must be aired, shaken, and dry-cleaned.