He was well enough to be up, to hobble about painfully on a stick; to be exceedingly fault-finding, and to eat three hearty meals a day; but the moment the Indian appeared, he withdrew into himself, and became silent and uneasy.
Before an hour passed, he again presented the furs, the gun, the canoe, and the traps to Rolf, on condition that he should get him out to his folks.
All three were glad to set out that very day on the outward trip to Lyons Falls.
Down Little Moose River to Little Moose Lake and on to South Branch of Moose, then by the Main Moose, was their way.

The streams were flush; there was plenty of water, and this fortunately reduced the number of carries; for Hoag could not walk and would not hobble.

They sweat and laboured to carry him over every portage; but they covered the fifty miles in three days, and on the evening of the third, arrived at the little backwoods village of Lyons Falls.
The change that took place in Hoag now was marked and unpleasant.

He gave a number of orders, where, the day before, he would have made whining petitions.

He told them to "land easy, and don't bump my canoe." He hailed the loungers about the mill with an effusiveness that they did not respond to.