ber . . . if your tracks once fork . . . they will never
come together again . . . my grandchildren . . . I have spoken."

After Little Pine's father, as well as several of the guests, had made
their remarks, Naudin, Neykia's mother, rose to address her daughter.
Overcome with nervousness, she pulled her shawl so far over her face as
to leave only a tiny peep-hole through which to look. Hesitatingly she
began:

"My daughter, you never knew what trouble is, now you will know. You
never knew what hard work is, now you will soon learn. Never let your
husband want for anything. Never allow another woman to do anything
for him; if you do . . . you are lost. When you have children, my
daughter, and they grow up, your sons will always be sons to you, even
though they be gray-headed. But with your daughters it will not be so;
when they marry, they will be lost to you. Once married, they are gone
for ever."

She stepped up to her daughter, kissed her, and sank to the floor,
weeping copiously.

Then Amik rose to speak. He beckoned to his daughter. She advanced
and knelt down, holding the fringe of his legging while he addressed
her:

"Neykia, my daughter, you have taken this man. Be good to him, work
for him, live for him, and if need be, die for him. Kiss me, Neykia,
my daughter; kiss me for the last time."

She kissed him, and he added:

"You have kissed me for the last time: henceforth never kiss any man
but your husband."

Raising his hand with untutored dignity, he pronounced the words:

"Remember . . . I have spoken."

VIII

BUSINESS AND ROMANCE

FAREWELL ATHABASCA

Though Wawe Pesim (The Egg Moon), or June, had already brought summer
to the Great Northern Forest, the beautiful Athabasca still waited in
vain. Son-in-law had not yet appeared. After all--was he but a fond
parents' dream? I wondered.

Soon the picturesque and romantic Fur Brigade would be sweeping
southward on its voyage from the last entrenchments of the Red Gods to
the newest outposts of civilization--a civilization that has debauched,
infected, plundered, and murdered the red man ever since its first
onset upon the eastern shores of North America. If you don't believe
this, read history, especially the history of the American fur trade.

Meanwhile, canoes laden with furs and in charge of Hudson's Bay traders
or clerks from outlying "Flying Posts" had arrived; and among the
voyageurs was that amusing character, Old