--to catch all the fur he could--and he must not lose his
courage now, before that purpose was accomplished. He must remain on
his trail until the hunting season closed. He must be constantly upon
his guard, he thought, and perhaps after all would not be discovered.
No, he would _not_ let himself be afraid.

When he returned to the tilt Micmac John asked:

"Gettin' much fur?"

"Not so bad," he replied. "I has one silver, an' a fine un, too."

The half-breed showed marked interest at once.

"Let's see him. Got him here?"

"No, I left un in th' third tilt. That's where I caught un."

"Where's yer other fur?"

"I took un all down t' th' river tilt There's a cross among un an'
twenty-eight martens."

"Um-m."

Micmac John knew well enough the fur had been taken to some other
tilt, for when he arrived here early in the afternoon his first care
was to look for it, but not a skin had he found, and he was
disappointed, for it was the purpose of his visit. Bob, absolutely
honest and guileless himself, in spite of Dick's constant assertion
that Micmac was a thief and worse, was easily deceived by the
half-breed's bland manner. Unfortunately he had not learned that every
one else was not as honest and straightforward as himself. Micmac's
attempt upon his life he had ascribed to a sudden burst of anger, and
it was forgiven and forgotten. The selfish enmity, the blackness of
heart, the sinister nature that will never overlook and will go to any
length to avenge a real or fancied wrong--the characteristics of a
half-breed Indian--were wholly beyond his comprehension. He had never
dissembled himself, and he did not know that the smiling face and
smooth tongue are often screens of deception.

"We'll be havin' supper now," suggested Bob, lifting the boiling
kettle off the stove and throwing in some tea. "I'm fair starved."

After they had eaten Micmac filled his pipe and lounged back, smoking
in silence for some time, apparently deep in thought. Finally he
asked, "When ye goin' back t' th' river, Bob?"

"I'm not thinkin t' start back till Wednesday an' maybe Thursday, an'
reach un Monday or Tuesday after. Bill won't be gettin' there till
Tuesday, an' Dick an' Ed expects t' be there then t' spend Christmas
an' hunt deer."

"Hunt deer?"

"They're needin' fresh meat, an' deer footin's good in th' meshes."

"The's fine signs to th' nuth'ard from th' second lake in, 'bout
twenty mile from here. You could get some there. I