loving words about the true way; and then as he recalled the spot where
with him he had bowed in prayer, and then put up his hand on his brow
where the good man's kiss had been imprinted, the very spot seemed to
burn, and Oowikapun could have wept, only he was indignant at his
cowardice.

Thus moodily he strode along on the trail, now nearly destitute of all
evidences of having been used by the hunters, when he was startled and
amazed by an unexpected sound that seemed strangely out of place. It
was a woman's voice he heard; and although the tones were low and
plaintive, yet he could easily make out the words of the song, for he
had heard them over and over again in the wigwam of Memotas. They were:

"Jesus net it a ye-moo-win,
Is pe-mek ka ke it oo-tate,
Weya pi-ko ne mah-me-sin,
Nesta a-we itoo ta-yan."

To our readers who may not be posted in the Cree language of the far
North, we give the English translation of the verse:

"Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone,
He whom I fix my hopes upon;
His track I see, and I'll pursue
The narrow way, till him I view."

This hymn was the first translated into Cree. It is a general
favourite, and is frequently heard not only in the public religious
services and at the family devotions, but often the forest's stillness
is broken by its hopeful, cheering notes, as at his lonely toil the
Christian hunter strides along. Mr Evans printed his first copies of
it in syllabic characters on birch bark.

But how did it get here? and who was the sweet singer? These were
questions now in the mind of Oowikapun as he stood still, uncertain what
to do, but strangely thrilled by the song, which had so quickly carried
him back to the tent of the loving Christian Memotas.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE MAIDEN'S STORY.

Not long had Oowikapun to wait, for soon emerged from among the young
balsam trees a fair Indian maiden with a number of snow-white ptarmigan
and a few rabbits, which had rewarded her skill and enterprise as a
successful huntress in coming so far from the village to set her snares.
She was taller than most Indian maidens, and her eyes were bright and
fearless. She stepped into the trail and turned her face homeward, but
gave a sudden start, as, lifting up her eyes, she found herself almost
face to face with Oowikapun. Quickly regaining her composure, she threw
her game over her back, in the Indian woman's style of carrying loads;
and with the natural Indian