aid; "Will you be frien' of me? Is it
too moche?"

"Yes," said Ranald, slowly, "I will be your friend, too. It is a little
thing," he added, unconsciously quoting his father's words. Then LeNoir
turned around to Macdonald Bhain, and striking an attitude, exclaimed:
"See! You be my boss, I be your man--what you call--slave. I work for
noting, me. Das sure."

Macdonald Bhain shook his head.

"You could not belong to us," he said, and explained to him the terms
upon which the Macdonald men were engaged. LeNoir had never heard of
such terms.

"You not drink whisky?"

"Not too much," said Macdonald Bhain.

"How many glass? One, two, tree?"

"I do not know," said Macdonald Bhain. "It depends upon the man. He must
not take more than is good for him."

"Bon!" said LeNoir, "das good. One glass he mak' me feel good. Two das
nice he mak' me feel ver fonny. Three glass yes das mak' me de frien'
of hevery bodie. Four das mak' me feel big; I walk de big walk; I am de
bes' man all de place. Das good place for stop, eh?"

"No," said Macdonald Bhain, gravely, "you need to stop before that."

"Ver' good. Ver' good me stop him me. You tak' me on for your man?"

Macdonald Bhain hesitated. LeNoir came nearer him and lowering his
voice said: "I'm ver' bad man me. I lak to know how you do dat--what you
say--forgive. You show me how."

"Come to me next spring," said Macdonald Bhain.

"Bon!" said LeNoir. "I be dere on de Nation camp."

And so he was. And when Mrs. Murray heard of it from Macdonald Bhain
that summer, she knew that Ranald had kept his word and had done LeNoir
good and not evil.

CHAPTER XVIII

HE IS NOT OF MY KIND

The story of the riot in which Ranald played so important a part filled
the town and stirred society to its innermost circles--those circles,
namely, in which the De Lacys lived and moved. The whole town began
talking of the Glengarry men, and especially of their young leader who
had, with such singular ability and pluck, rescued the Ottawas with
Harry and Lieutenant De Lacy, from their perilous position.

The girls had the story from Harry's lips, and in his telling of it,
Ranald's courage and skill certainly lost nothing; but to Maimie, while
it was pleasant enough for her to hear of Ranald's prowess, and while
she enjoyed the reflected glory that came to her as his friend, the
whole incident became altogether hateful and distressing. She found
herself suddenly famous in her social world