Cassidy seemed to guess what he was thinking.
"It's a soft thing I'm putting you on to, as a special favor," he explained.

"It will be up-river most of the way, and I've got a couple of Siwash to pole the canoes.

All you have to do is the cooking, make camp, and tend to Miss Stirling's friends when they go fishing." He waved his hand, and added, as though to clinch the argument, "I've known people of that kind to give a man that pleased them ten dollars." Weston's face flushed a little, but he said he would go; and the next day the party started up-river in two Indian canoes.

Besides Weston and the dark-skinned Siwash packers, it consisted of four: a tall, elderly man called Kinnaird, with the stamp of a military training plain upon him; his little, quiet wife; his daughter, who was somewhat elaborately dressed; and Ida Stirling.

Kinnaird and his daughter traveled in the larger canoe with the Indians and the camp gear, and Mrs.Kinnaird and Miss Stirling with Weston in the other.
Though Weston was more or less accustomed to the work, he found the first few hours sufficiently arduous.