"You'll have to take my dugout.

I'll get another from Grampierre.

You can make Moultrie in six days in that if you work.

That'll give you five pounds of flour a day--enough to keep you alive." The word "dugout" galvanized Alexander into action.

Without a glance in Ambrose's direction, he ran to the craft, and running it a little way into the water rocked it from side to side to satisfy himself there were no leaks.
Turning to his family he spoke a command in Cree, and forthwith they began to pitch their bundles in.
Ambrose was accustomed to the thanklessness of the humbler natives.
They are like children, who look to the white man for everything, and take what they can get as a matter of course.