Three times a day, Quonab rubbed that blackened ankle. The grease
saved the skin from injury, and in a week Rolf had thrown his
crutches away.
The month of May was nearly gone; June was at hand; that is, the
spring was over. !
In all ages, man has had the impulse, if not the habit, of spring
migration. Yielding to it he either migrated or made some radical
change in his life. Most of the Adirondack men who trapped in the
winter sought work on the log drives in spring; some who had
families and a permanent home set about planting potatoes and
plying the fish nets. Rolf and Quonab having neither way open,
yet feeling the impulse, decided to go out to Warren's with the fur.
Quonab wanted tobacco -- and a change.
Rolf wanted a rifle, and to see the Van Trumpers -- and a change.
So June Ist saw them all aboard, with Quonab steering at the
stern, and Skookum bow-wowing at the bow, bound for the great
centre of Warren's settlement -- one store and three houses, very
wide apart.
There was a noble flush of water in the streams, and, thanks to
their axe work in September, they passed down Jesup's River
without a pause, and camped on the Hudson that night, fully
twenty-five miles from home.
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