y; but
after the gust was over, the fur-trader would kiss his son, call him a
"rascal," and send him off to fill and fetch his pipe.

Mr Grant, who was in charge of Fort Garry, led the way to his smoking
apartment, where the two were soon seated in front of a roaring
log-fire, emulating each other in the manufacture of smoke.

"Well, Kennedy," said Mr Grant, throwing himself back in his chair,
elevating his chin, and emitting a long thin stream of white vapour from
his lips, through which he gazed at his friend complacently--"well,
Kennedy, to what fortunate chance am I indebted for this visit? It is
not often that we have the pleasure of seeing you here."

Mr Kennedy created two large volumes of smoke, which, by means of a
vigorous puff, he sent rolling over towards his friend, and said,
"Charley."

"And what of Charley?" said Mr Grant, with a smile, for he was well
aware of the boy's propensity to fun, and of the father's desire to curb
it.

"The fact is," replied Kennedy, "that Charley must be broke. He's the
wildest colt I ever had to tame, but I'll do it--I will--that's a fact."

If Charley's subjugation had depended on the rapidity with which the
little white clouds proceeded from his sire's mouth, there is no doubt
that it would have been a "fact" in a very short time, for they rushed
from him with the violence of a high wind. Long habit had made the old
trader and his pipe not only inseparable companions, but part and parcel
of each other--so intimately connected that a change in the one was sure
to produce a sympathetic change in the other. In the present instance,
the little clouds rapidly increased in size and number as the old
gentleman thought on the obstinacy of his "colt."

"Yes," he continued, after a moment's silence, "I've made up my mind to
tame him, and I want _you_, Mr Grant, to help me."

Mr Grant looked as if he would rather not undertake to lend his aid in
a work that was evidently difficult; but being a good-natured man, he
said, "And how, friend, can I assist in the operation?"

"Well, you see, Charley's a good fellow at bottom, and a clever fellow
too--at least so says the schoolmaster; though I must confess that, so
far as my experience goes, he's only clever at finding out excuses for
not doing what I want him to. But still I'm told he's clever, and can
use his pen well; and I know for certain that he can use his tongue
well. So I want to get him into the service, and have hi