.

"What iss that you say?" demanded the old man with a look of suspicion,
for his hearing was imperfect.

"Surely the water must be boiling now, daddy?" said Elspie, by way of
checking the conversation.

"I don't know whuther it iss boilin' or not," answered Duncan senior,
applying another brand to his pipe.

"Archie, boy!" exclaimed Dan Davidson, "you're letting that goose roast
to a cinder."

"No, Dan, I'm not--but Billie can't a-bear meat underdone, so it's
better to blacken the outside than have the inside raw."

"Who iss that singing? Wheesht, boys," said Fergus McKay, turning his
head a little on one side as if to listen.

There was profound silence for a few moments as a rich manly voice was
heard to swell forth from the neighbourhood of one of the camp-fires.

"It comes from the camp of the Switzers, I think," said Elspie McKay.

"I know it," said Jessie Davidson, who was seated on a log beside her
friend. "It is Francois La Certe. He came to our meeting-place in Red
River, you know, just after Cuthbert Grant and his men left us, and,
hearing that we were starting off to Jack River again, he resolved to
follow. I heard him tell Slowfoot to get ready to go along with us."

"I wonder why he came?" said Mrs Davidson, coming out of her tent at
the moment, and joining the party round the fire.

"He did not say," answered Jessie.

"He did not require to say," remarked Duncan McKay, with a sarcastic
laugh. "Every wan knows that wherever there iss a chance of gettin'
ammunition and plenty of victuals for nothing, there La Certe iss
certain to be found. He knew that we would be sure to hev plenty at
this season o' the year, an' that we would not see him an' his wife
sterve when our kettles wass full. Iss not that so, Okematan? You know
him best."

Thus appealed to, the Indian, whose usual expression was one of intense
gravity, shut his eyes, opened his mouth, displayed his superb teeth,
and uttered a low chuckle, but made no further reply.

It was enough. Those who understood Okematan and his ways were well
aware that he thought La Certe uncommonly sly.

The half-breed had indeed followed the expelled colonists in the belief
that they would certainly possess plenty of powder and shot--which he
had not the means of purchasing. He also knew that the whole of
Rupert's Land swarmed with game in autumn and spring, and that the
Scotch were an open-handed race when approached in the right way.
Putt