He tried his best, but though he followed his plan up for fully an hour not a bird did he hit, and by that time his arm was so tired that further throwing was out of the question. In the meantime, his course had brought him out on the lake front once more, and now while he rested, Simon Lapp tried his hand at fishing, with a hook made out of a thorn and some line manufactured from threads from his shirt. But the fish would not bite, and in an hour Lapp gave up the attempt in disgust. Each looked at the other inquiringly.
"The lake is full o' fish, and the woods full o' game—an' yet it looks like we were meant to starve, Morris," said Lapp, slowly.
"Oh, don't say that!" cried Dave. "Something may turn up—it must turn up!"
He had scarcely spoken when Lapp leaped to his feet and pointed down the lake shore. "A boat!" he cried.
There was a speck on the water, and as it grew larger, Dave saw that it was indeed a boat, quite a large affair, carrying a small sail and in addition several men at oars.
Were those in the craft friends or enemies? That was the interesting question, and Dave felt his heart beat rapidly. If they were friends all would be
