ed, and, after
terrible sufferings from which he never quite recovered and a three
years' absence, he rejoined his family in Red River."

"Yes, O yes! I know it all," groaned La Certe.

"Well," continued Dan, bitterly, "his fate is not unlikely to be ours."

The poor half-breed made no reply to this. For some time he lay quite
still, and his comrade had almost fallen into an uneasy slumber, when he
was awakened by La Certe breaking out into a soliloquy in which he
apostrophised his absent wife.

"O my Slowfoot!" he murmured. "Shall we never meet again on earth?
Yes, you are right. I have been lazy! I _am_ lazy. I suppose that
this is punishment for my sin. But it is hard to bear, and very heavy--
is it not?--for only following one's nature in longing for repose. O!
why was I born? Why was our little one born, to enjoy for so brief a
time the delights of smoke, and then have it denied her--except on the
sly, when with her miserable father, who will never see her more--
perhaps."

He paused for a few minutes, and then broke out again.

"Yes, my Slowfoot--you are right. I must reform. I will cast off my
sloth as a garment--even--even though I should go naked all the rest of
my days! I will work--energise! I will--"

"Hold your tongue, La Certe, and listen," said Dan in a low, stern
voice.

"I am all attention," returned the poor man in a similarly low tone.

"Are you game to fight, if you get the chance?"

"Game to fight!" echoed the other--"to fight for my Slowfoot, my little
one, my smoke, and my repo--I mean my--my--new--"

"Speak lower, man, and listen to a plan I have in my head."

Here Dan spoke so low that he could not be heard at all, save only by
his companion; but that is of little consequence, for the plan, whatever
it might have been, was never carried out.

Next day the Nor'-west party with their two prisoners paddled away
towards the mouth of the grand turbulent Winnipeg River, and began to
traverse the weary wilderness-route of rivers and lakes, which at that
time formed the only direct means of communication between the frontiers
of Canada and "Rupert's Land."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

THE LAST.

Eagerly, earnestly, doggedly, did Daniel Davidson and Francois La Certe
watch for a favourable opportunity to escape from their captors, but
they waited and watched in vain, for their captors were cruel, suspected
them of the intention to escape, and were consequently careful to
p