spring is down there at the foot of the spruce. Just blow up my fire
a little and it will do for you." He seemed to take them entirely for
granted; and he spoke as if resuming a dropped conversation.

There was something very troll-like in the old figure, squatting on the
ground; in his bright, glancing eyes, in his incessant, matter-of-fact
loquacity, and the slight, peculiar gesticulation, with which he
illustrated his talk. He was all of a colour; high moccasins, breeches,
shirt and cap were weathered to the same grayish-brown shade--and that
much the colour of his skin. Against a background of withered grass,
only his white hair would have been visible. He was like some
good-tempered, little familiar of the forest.

He stared hard at Natalie in his bright-eyed, impersonal way; and as
soon as Garth, having made his horses comfortable, came to build up the
fire, he started in with his questions.

"Where you going?"

"Spirit River Crossing," said Garth.

"Thinking of settling?"

Garth shook his head.

"No, you don't look like settlers. Company business, maybe?"

"No," said Garth.

"Police? Gov'ment survey?"

"Private business," said Garth--his usual answer to the question direct.

Baffled inquisitiveness, vice of the kindest natures, made the old man's
face ugly; and for a moment he looked like a wicked troll. For a little
while he preserved an offended silence; but then, probably recollecting
that he would hear the whole story at the Settlement, or simply because
he could not keep still any longer, his face cleared, and he resumed his
engaging, inconsequential babble.

"See that horse over there, the buckskin? Best horse I ever had! True
buckskin! Mark the zebra stripes round his legs, Miss; and the black
stripe on his backbone. You can't kill a buck; he's got more lives
than a cat. I call the old one Mother; she's good-natured, she is!"

"You're a freighter, I see," remarked Garth as a leader.

"Sure thing, stranger! Tom Lillywhite and his team is known to every
settler in the country! Been here thirty-five year; and always on the
move! Never sleep in the same place two nights going! That wagon there,
and the grub-box is my home. It's a variegated life!"

Garth bethought himself the old man would likely prove a valuable source
of information. "You must know everybody in the country!" he said,
feeling his way.

"None better!" said Tom Lillywhite, bridling with pride.

"Are there many white men at