for if Wapaw's alive we can't fail to come up wi' him afore
sundown; and I'm keen to turn about an' go after my children. I'll push
on by myself if ye don't care to keep up wi me."

This latter remark was made to Stiff, whose countenance indicated that
he had no desire to undertake a harder day's march than usual. The
effect of the remark was to stir up all the Yankee's pride.

"I'll tell 'ee what it is, _Mister_ Gore," said he, tartly; "you may
think yourself an oncommon hard walker, but Obadiah Stiff is not the man
to cave in to any white man alive. I don't care to go trampin' over the
country day after day, like the Wandering Jew, after a redskin, as, I'll
go bound, ain't no better than the rest o' his kind; but if ye want to
see which of our legs is the best pair o' compasses, I'll walk with ye
from here to hereafter, I guess, or anywhar else ye choose; if I don't,
then my name ain't Stiff."

"It would be well av it worn't Stiff, for ye've no reason to be proud
o't," observed Larry O'Dowd, with a grin; "don't spake so loud, man, but
shut up yer potatie trap and go to roost. Ye'll need it all if ye
wouldn't like to fall behind to-morrow. There now, don't reply; ye've
no call to make me yer father confessor, and apologise for boastin';
good night, an' go to slape!"

The rest of the party, who had lain down, laughed at this sally, and
Stiff, on consideration, thought it best to laugh too. In a few minutes
every one in the encampment was sound asleep, with the exception of
Robin Gore, who took the first hour of watching, and who sat beside the
sinking fire like a Indian in earnest meditation, with his eyes resting
dreamily on the worn-out mocassin.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

SHORT ALLOWANCE, AND A SURPRISE.

Once again we return to Silver Lake; but here we do not find affairs as
we left them. True, Roy and Nelly are still there, the hut is as snug
as it used to be, and the scenery as beautiful, but provisions have
begun to fail, and an expression of real anxiety clouds the usually
cheerful countenance of Roy, while reflected anxiety sits on the sweet
little face of Nell. The winter is far advanced, and the prospect of
resuming the journey home is farther off than ever.

One morning Roy entered the hut with a slow step and a sad countenance.

"Nell," said he, throwing down a small fish which he had just caught,
"things look very bad now; seems to me that we'll starve here. Since we
broke the long line I'