ng touches, and at last turned out a piece of work which old
Samuel Ravenshaw himself would have failed to recognise as his son.

It should have been remarked that previous to this, Petawanaquat had
modified his own costume. His leggings were fringed with scalp-locks;
he had painted his face, and stuck a bunch of feathers in his hair, and
a gay firebag and a tomahawk were thrust under his belt behind.

"Ho!" he exclaimed, with a look of satisfaction, "now Tony is Tonyquat,
and Petawanaquat is his father!"

"When will zoo take me back to my own fadder?" asked Tony, emboldened by
the Indian's growing familiarity.

No reply was given to this, but the question seemed to throw the red man
into a savage reverie, and a dark frown settled on his painted face, as
he muttered, "The Little Wolf meant to take the white man's life, but he
was wise: he spared his life and took his _heart_. His revenge is
sweeter. Wah!"

Tony failed to catch the meaning of this, but fearing to rouse the anger
of his new father, he held his tongue. Meanwhile the Indian put the
child on a stump a few yards off in front of him, filled his pipe,
lighted it, placed an elbow on each knee, rested his chin on his doubled
fists, and glared at his handiwork. Tony was used to glaring by that
time, though he did not like it. He sat still for a long time like one
fascinated, and returned the stare with interest.

At last the Indian spoke.

"Is Tonyquat a Christian?"

Somewhat surprised but not perplexed by the question Tony answered, "Ho,
yis," promptly.

The Indian again looked long and earnestly at the child, as if he were
considering how far such a juvenile mind might be capable of going into
a theological discussion.

"What _is_ a Christian?" asked the Indian abruptly.

"A Kist'n's a dood boy," replied Tony; then, dropping his eyes for a
moment in an effort to recall past lessons, he suddenly looked up with
an intelligent smile, and said, "Oh, yis, I 'memers now. Elsie teach me
a Kist'n boy's one what tries to be like de Lord--dood, kind, gentle,
fo'givin', patient, an' heaps more; zat's what a Kist'n is."

The Indian nodded approvingly. This accorded, as far as it went, with
what he had learned from the missionaries of Red River, but his mind was
evidently perplexed. He smoked, meditated a considerable time, and
glared at Tony in silence; then said suddenly--

"Tonyquat, your father is _not_ a Christian."

"My fadder would knock zoo