en
made; for, passing the lime-kiln one dark night, as the two rode home
together, Fabian's horse shied, the bank of the river gave way, and with
a startled "Ah, Henri!" the profligate and his horse were gone into the
river below.

Next month the farm and all were sold, Henri Paradis succeeded the old
lime-burner at his post, drank no more ever, and lived his life in sight
of the old home.

THE WOODSMAN'S STORY OF THE GREAT WHITE CHIEF

The old woodsman shifted the knife with which he was mending his
fishing-rod from one hand to the other, and looked at it musingly,
before he replied to Medallion. "Yes, m'sieu', I knew the White
Chief, as they called him: this was his"--holding up the knife; "and
this"--taking a watch from his pocket. "He gave them to me; I was with
him in the Circle on the great journey."

"Tell us about him, then," Medallion urged; "for there are many tales,
and who knows which is the right one?"

"The right one is mine. Holy, he was to me like a father then! I know
more of the truth than any one." He paused a moment, looking out on the
river where the hot sun was playing with all its might, then took off
his cap with deliberation, laid it beside him, and speaking as it were
into the distance, began:

"He once was a trader of the Hudson's Bay Company. Of his birth some
said one thing, some another; I know he was beaucoup gentil, and
his heart, it was a lion's! Once, when there was trouble with the
Chipp'ways, he went alone to their camp, and say he will fight their
strongest man, to stop the trouble. He twist the neck of the great
fighting man of the tribe, so that it go with a snap, and that ends it,
and he was made a chief, for, you see, in their hearts they all hated
their strong man. Well, one winter there come down to Fort o' God
two Esquimaux, and they say that three white men are wintering by the
Coppermine River; they had travel down from the frozen seas when their
ship was lock in the ice, but can get no farther. They were sick with
the evil skin, and starving. The White Chief say to me: 'Galloir, will
you go to rescue them?' I would have gone with him to the ends of the
world--and this was near one end."

The old man laughed to himself, tossed his jet-black hair from his
wrinkled face, and after a moment, went on: "There never was such a
winter as that. The air was so still by times that you can hear the
rustle of the stars and the shifting of the northern lights; but the
col