s," I returned, "He was good, because the Great Master of Life cannot
be otherwise than good. He has made our brains capable of understanding
that, and our hearts capable of resting on it. But He is our Father.
Children do not understand all that a father does. Big Otter has
touched on a great mystery. But what we know not now we shall know
hereafter. Only let the red-man be sure of this, that whatever we come
to know in the hereafter will tend more and more to prove that the Great
Master of Life is good."

For a long time the Indian remained silent, and I could not tell by the
expression of his grave face whether my reasoning weighed with him or
not; I therefore offered up a brief prayer that the Spirit of God might
open his eyes--as well as my own--to see, and our hearts to receive, the
_truth_, whatever that might be. Then I said,--"The thoughts of Big
Otter are deep, what do they lead to?"

"No," he replied, "his thoughts are not deep, but they are confused, for
he has heard his pale-face brother call Waboose, Eve. How did he come
to know that name? It was only used by Weeum, and seldom by him--never
by any one else."

It struck me that now was as suitable a time as might present itself to
let the Indian know about the contents of the packet, so I
said,--"Listen, Big Otter, I have something important to tell."

From this point I went on, and, in as few words as possible, related all
that the reader knows about the packet, and the wishes of poor William
Liston. I also showed him the miniature, at which he gazed with visible
but suppressed emotion.

"Now," said I, in conclusion, "what do you think we should do?"

"What Weeum wished must be done," he replied simply but firmly.

"You were fond of Weeum?" I said.

"Yes, Big Otter loved him like a brother."

"Don't you think," said I, after some minutes' thought, "that it is our
duty first to return to the camp of your tribe, and also that I should
send Salamander back to Fort Wichikagan to tell where I have gone, and
for what purpose? For Salamander is not free like myself. He is still
a servant of the fur-traders."

"No, that is not your duty," said the Indian decidedly. "Your duty is
to obey the commands of Weeum! My tribe will not die of grief because
Waboose does not return. As for Salamander--send him where you please.
He is nobody--nothing!"

Although not quite agreeing with Big Otter in his contemptuous estimate
of the value of Salamand