opened
his mouth as if to speak. Then he suddenly collapsed, and fell in a
heap upon the floor, scattering flakes of snow from his person in all
directions.

La Certe and his wife, though steeped in selfishness, were by no means
insensible to the sufferings of humanity when these were actually made
visible to their naked eyes. Like many--too many--people, they were
incapable of being impressed very deeply through their ears, but could
be keenly touched through the eyes. No sooner did they behold the
condition of Fergus--who was well-known to them--than they dropped their
apathetic characters as though they had been garments.

In her haste Slowfoot let fall her pipe, which broke to atoms on the
floor--but she heeded it not. La Certe capsized his mug of tea--but
regarded it not; and while the former proceeded to remove the shawl from
Fergus's neck and chafe his cold hands, the latter assisted Dechamp to
drag the exhausted man a little nearer to the fire, and poured a cup of
warm tea down his throat.

Their efforts, though perchance not as wisely directed as they might
have been, were so vigorously conducted that success rewarded them.
Fergus soon began to show signs of returning animation. A hunter of the
western wilderness is not easily overcome, neither is he long of
reviving, as a rule, if not killed outright.

They set him up in a sitting posture with his back against a box, and
his feet towards the fire. Heaving a deep sigh, Fergus looked round
with a bewildered, anxious expression. In a moment intelligence
returned to his eyes, and he made a violent attempt to rise, but Dechamp
held him down.

"Let me up!" he gasped, "life and death are in the matter--if it iss not
death already--"

"Be still, Fergus McKay," said Dechamp, with that firmness of manner and
tone which somehow command respect; "I know all about it. Take one bit
of bread, one swig more of tea, and you go with me to Fort Garry, to
tell the Gov'nor what you know. He will send help at once."

Great was the relief of Fergus when he heard this. Submitting to
treatment like an obedient child, he was soon fit to stagger to the
sleigh or cariole, into which he was carefully stuffed and packed like a
bale of goods by La Certe and his wife, who, to their credit be it
recorded, utterly ignored, for once, the discomforts of the situation.

Fergus was asleep before the packing was quite done. Then Dechamp
jumped in beside him, and drove off in th