ot the loan of it
from Cloudbrow, and she looked at it with care, because she had never
seen such a knife before. She knew all its marks. Why does Cloudbrow
deny that it is his? Because it was Cloudbrow who killed Perrin. If it
had been anybody else he would have known it, and he would have said
so--for he was _there_."

"How know you that he was there?"

"Marie Blanc knows. She netted the snowshoes that Cloudbrow wore, and
she saw the footprints."

"But pairs of snowshoes are very like each other," objected La Certe.

"Very like. Yes; but did ever two shoes have the same mends in the same
places of the netting, where it had been broken, and the same marks on
the frames?"

"Never. It will go hard with Cloudbrow if this is true."

"It will go hard with him whether it is true or not," returned the
woman; "for some of the friends of Perrin believe it to be true, and
swear--"

The disappearance of Slowfoot's float at this moment stopped her
swearing, and brought the conversation to an abrupt end. The landing of
another goldeye prevented its resumption.

Having caught more than enough for a good supper, this easy-going pair
leaned their rods against a tree, and ascended the bank towards their
tent, which was an ordinary conical Indian wigwam, composed partly of
leather and partly of birch-bark, with a curtain for a door and a hole
in the top for a window; it also served for a chimney.

On the way they encountered one of the poor Swiss immigrants, who,
having a wife and family, and having been unsuccessful in
buffalo-hunting, and indeed in all other hunting, was in a state which
bordered on starvation.

"You have been lucky," said the Switzer, eyeing La Certe's fish
greedily.

"Sometimes luck comes to us--not often," answered the half-breed. "Have
you caught any?"

"Yes, two small ones. Here they are. But what are these among three
children and a wife? I know not how to fish," said the mountaineer
disconsolately.

The fact was not surprising, for the poor man was a watchmaker by trade,
and had never handled rod or gun till he was, as it were, cast adrift in
Rupert's Land.

"I will sell you some of my fish," said La Certe, who on all occasions
had a keen eye for a bargain.

"Good! I am ready to buy," said the poor fellow, "but I have not much
to spend. Only last week I gave my silver watch for eight gallons of
wheat. I meant it for seed, but my wife and children were starving, so
we were ha