"That's strange," said he. "I saw the creek tumbling right down through the alders into this little lake, and it must be fresh water." He scratched his head. "Oh, I know," said he. "The tide backs up in here to the foot of the little falls. Give me the kettle. It's shallow out there in front, and there's rocks. We'll cross the lake to get a drink!" Suiting the action to the words, he went off on a run, and this time when he returned he had the pail full of excellent fresh water, cold as ice. "I got my feet wet," said he; "but never mind that. I've learned something else--or, at least, I think I have." "What's that?" asked Jesse. "Why, it's this. Our crackers and tomatoes won't last very long, and we can't eat moss or dried grass. We've got our fishing-lines done up in the bedrolls in the boat, and if we can't catch any codfish in the bay, there'll be a time before long, unless I'm mistaken, when there'll be salmon in this creek. They say they run in every river on the Alaska coast, and I suppose it's the same here." "We'd better not eat up all our crackers right away," suggested Jesse, hesitating. "No," said Rob, who seemed to drop into the place of leader. "We'll have to do the way people do when they're shipwrecked and cast away. We'll go on short rations for a while." "Well," said John, "let's have a cracker, anyway, and the rest of that last can of tomatoes we opened. I'd like a cup of tea pretty well; but it may be some time before we see tea again." "Worry enough for the day," said Rob. "And what we ought to be is mighty thankful we got off as well as we have. Anyhow, we're alive; and, anyhow, we'll camp here to-night. Now you boys go over to the boat and get the bedrolls, while I pick up some wood and get some fresh grass for the beds. It'll be dark now before long. We'll make a fire and cook the tomatoes in the can."