hom he appealed treated him
facetiously, others turned him away from their doors, being too anxious
about the impending flood to listen to him. At last he found a
soft-hearted soul in the person of Michel Rollin's mother, old Liz, who
dwelt in a very small log-hut on a knoll at a considerable height above
the river.

"What d'ee want wi' the barley?" demanded old Liz, who, besides being
amiable, had a feeling of kindness for the man with whom her absent son
had for years been in the habit of hunting.

"To heat 'im," replied the Indian.

"To eat it," echoed the sturdy little woman; "weel, come in. I can
spare some, but dinna mak' a noise, Daddy's sleepin'."

The savage entered with solemn though wavering caution. Old though she
was, Liz had a living father. He was so very ancient, that if he had
dwelt in Egypt he would probably have been taken for a live mummy. He
sat in the chimney corner, in an arm-chair to which Liz had tied him to
prevent his falling into the fire. He smiled and nodded at the fire
when awake, and snored and nodded at it when asleep. Beyond this, and a
grateful recognition of his daughter's attentions, he did and said
nothing. Gazing at Daddy, Peegwish fell into an owlish reverie, from
which he was aroused by old Liz putting a small sack of barley on the
ground before him. The Indian received it with thanks, threw it on his
shoulder, and with an expression of unalterable determination on his
visage, returned to his own home.

The home of Peegwish was dilapidated like himself. It stood on a
portion of ground belonging to Angus Macdonald, and was very near to the
river's brink. It was a mere log-cabin of the smallest dimensions,
having one low door and one glassless window. The window also served
the purpose of a chimney. Its furniture was in keeping with its
appearance--a stool, a couple of blankets, two little heaps of brushwood
for beds, a kettle or two, a bag of pemmican, an old flint gun, two
pairs of snow-shoes, a pair of canoe-paddles, a couple of very dirty
bundles, and an old female. The latter was the dirtiest piece of
furniture in the establishment. She was sister to Peegwish, and was
named by him Wildcat.

Despite appearances, the hut was comfortably warm, for Wildcat--who, to
do her justice, had been grossly misnamed--was fond of heat. She
devoted the chief part of her existence to the collection of fuel, most
of the remainder being spent in making moccasins, etcetera,