one on this
way too long. We must change. _You_ must change. You are lazy!'"

"Well, La Certe," said Dan, "I'm afraid that Slowfoot is right."

"I know she is right!" retorted the half-breed, with more of
exasperation in his manner than his friend had ever before seen in him.
"When that which is said of one is false, one can afford to smile, but
when it is true what can one say? Yet it is hard--very hard. _You_ are
full of energy; you love to expend it, and you search for work. It is
natural--and what is natural _must_ be right. So, I am full of
laziness. I love to indulge it, and I search for repose. That is also
natural, and what is natural _must_ be right. Voila!"

"Then I suppose your love for repose," returned Dan, "will oblige you to
decline an offer which I thought of making to you."

"What is that?"

"To go with me on a shooting expedition to Lake Winnipeg for a week or
two."

"O no! I will not decline that," returned La Certe, brightening up.
"Shooting is not labour. It is amusement, with labour sufficient to
make after-repose delightful. And I will be glad to leave my home for a
time, for it is no longer the abode of felicity."

This having been satisfactorily arranged, preparations made, and
Slowfoot advised of her husband's intention, Dan went to Ben Nevis Hall
next morning to bid farewell to Elspie for a brief period. He found
only old McKay in the Hall, Elspie having gone up the Settlement, or
down the Settlement--the man did not know which--to call on a friend.

"See that ye will not be long o' comin' back, Tan," he said. "There
will be a good many arranchments to make, you see."

"I hope to be back in three weeks at latest," said Dan, "if all goes
well."

"Ay, if all goes well," repeated the old man, thoughtfully. "As Elspie
says sometimes, `We never know what a day may bring furth.' Well, well,
see that you will not be upsetting your canoe, for canoes are cranky
things--whatever."

In a short time our hero and La Certe found themselves floating once
more on the calm breast of the mighty inland sea.

It was afternoon. The circumstances were eminently conducive to the
felicity which is derivable from repose, and thus admirably suited to
the tastes of La Certe. An unruffled sheet of glassy water lay spread
out to the north-western horizon, which not only doubled the canoe and
its occupants, but reflected the golden glory of the sun, and mirrored
every fleecy cloudlet in th