attack, kept his men in reasonably good order. They had
not ridden long when the huge ungainly bisons were seen like black
specks on the horizon.

Still the horsemen--each armed with the muzzle-loading,
single-barrelled, flint-lock gun of the period--advanced cautiously,
until so near that the animals began to look up as if in surprise at the
unwonted intrusion on their great solitudes.

Then the signal was given, the horses stretched out at the gallop, the
buffalo began to run--at first heavily, as if great speed were
impossible to them; but gradually the pace increased until it attained
to racing speed. Then the hunters gave the rein to their eager steeds,
and the long line rushed upon the game like a tornado of centaurs.

From this point all discipline was at an end. Each man fought for his
own hand, killing as many animals as he could, so that ere long the
plain was strewn with carcases, and the air filled with gunpowder smoke.

We have said that all the hunters set out, but this is not strictly
correct, for three were left behind. One of these had fallen sick; one
had sprained his wrist, and another was lazy. It need scarcely be told
that the lazy one was Francois La Certe.

"There is no hurry," he said, when the hunters were assembling for the
start; "plenty of time. My horse has not yet recovered from the
fatigues of the journey. And who knows but the report of the buffalo
being so near may be false? I will wait and see the result. To-morrow
will be time enough to begin. Then, Slowfoot, you will see what I can
do. Your hands shall be busy. We will load our cart with meat and
pemmican, pay off all our debts, and spend a happy winter in Red River.
What have you got there in the kettle?"

"Pork," answered Slowfoot with characteristic brevity.

"Will it soon be ready?"

"Soon."

"Have you got the tea unpacked?"

"Yes."

"Send me your pipe."

This latter speech was more in the tone of a request than a command, and
the implied messenger from the opposite side of the fire was the baby--
Baby La Certe. We never knew its name, if it had one, and we have
reason to believe that it was a female baby. At the time, baby was
quite able to walk--at least to waddle or toddle.

A brief order from the maternal lips sent Baby La Certe toddling round
the fire towards its father, pipe in hand; but, short though the road
was, it had time to pause and consider. Evidently the idea of justice
was strongly