here's always need for hurry, specially
with men like you. I know the reason you don't go out better than
yourself, Francois."

"Yes--what is it?" asked the half-breed with a slight laugh.

"It's laziness. That's what it is, and you should be ashamed of
yourself."

The large mild eyes and low voice, and pale earnest face of the
plain-spoken invalid were such that it would have been impossible for
any one to be offended with him, much less La Certe, whose spirit of
indignation it was almost impossible to arouse. He winced a little at
the home-thrust, however, because he knew it to be true.

"You're hard on me, Little Bill," he said with a benignant look, as he
picked a stick from the fire and inserted its glowing end in his pipe.

"No, I'm not hard," returned the boy gravely. Indeed he was always
grave, and seldom laughed though he sometimes smiled faintly at the
jokes and quips of his volatile brother and Fred Jenkins the seaman:
"I'm not half hard enough," he continued; "I like you, Francois, and
that's the reason why I scold you and try to get you to mend. I don't
think there's such a lazy man in the whole Settlement as you. You would
rather sit and smoke and stuff yourself with pork all day than take the
trouble to saddle your horse and get your gun and go out with the rest.
Why are you so lazy, Francois?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Little Bill, unless it be that I'm born to be
lazy. Other people are born, I suppose, to be active and energetic.
They like activity and energy, and so they do it. I like repose and
quiet, and--so I do that. Not much difference after all! We both do
what we like best!"

Little Bill was perplexed. Although philosophical in tendency he had
not had sufficient experience in sophistical reasoning to enable him to
disentangle the sinuosities of bad logic. But he was a resolute little
fellow, and not easily quelled.

"What would happen," he asked, "if everybody in the world did as you
do?"

"Well, I suppose everybody would enjoy themselves. There would be no
more fightings or wars, or any trouble of that sort, if everybody would
only take things easy and smoke the pipe of peace."

"Hm! I don't know about that," returned the boy, doubtfully; "but I'm
quite sure there would not be much pemmican in Red River this winter if
all the hunters were like you. I wonder you're not ashamed, Francois.
Sometimes I think that you're not worth caring about; but I can't help
it, you kno