CHAPTER VII.
A GANG OF "RIVER-TRADERS." For a whole minute Winn sat silent, while from the opposite side of the table Mr.Gilder regarded his perplexed countenance with an expression that was not altogether pleasant.

Winn, suddenly looking up from his hard thinking, was a bit startled by it; but as it instantly melted into one of smiling sympathy, his confidence in the man remained unbroken.

Had he seen Mr.Gilder two hours earlier, instead of one, his opinion of the individual who had just prepared such a capital breakfast, expressed so great friendliness, and now showed him so plainly the unpleasant predicament into which he had fallen, would have been decidedly different.
At that time Mr.Gilder was kneeling beside an opening in the floor of a log-hut, in the centre of the island, and lifting from it a tray of odd-looking but beautifully made tools.

The hut was small and rudely constructed.

It was surrounded by a dense forest growth, and stood in a tiny clearing from which no road or trail could be seen to lead.