n
Sinclair and Mr. Campbell were surveying the ground, that they might
choose a spot for the erection of the house. Mrs. Campbell remained
sitting on the knoll, watching the debarkation of the packages; and
Percival, by her directions, brought her those articles which were for
immediate use. Mary and Emma Percival, accompanied by John, as they had
no task allotted to them, walked up the side of the stream toward the
wood.

"I wish I had my box," said John, who had been watching the running
water.

"Why do you want your box, John?" said Mary.

"For my hooks in my box," replied John.

"Why, do you see any fish in this small stream?" said Emma.

"Yes," replied John, walking on before them.

Mary and Emma followed him, now and then stopping to pick a flower
unknown to them: when they overtook John, he was standing immovable,
pointing to a figure on the other side of the stream, as fixed and
motionless as himself.

The girls started back as they beheld a tall, gaunt man, dressed in deer
hides, who stood leaning upon a long gun with his eyes fixed upon them.
His face was browned and weather-beaten--indeed so dark that it was
difficult to say if he were of the Indian race or not.

"It must be a hunter, Emma," said Mary Percival; "he is not dressed like
the Indians we saw at Quebec."

"It must be," replied Emma; "won't he speak?"

"We will wait and see," replied Mary. They did wait for a minute or
more, but the man neither spoke nor shifted his position.

"I will speak to him, Mary," said Emma at last. "My good man, you are
Malachi Bone, are you not?"

"That's my name," replied the hunter in a deep voice; "and who on earth
are you, and what are you doing here? Is it a frolic from the fort, or
what is it, that causes all this disturbance?"

"Disturbance!--why we don't make a great deal of noise; no, it's no
frolic; we are come to settle here, and shall be your neighbors."

[Illustration: MALACHI.]

"To settle here!--why, what on earth do you mean, young woman? Settle
here!--not you, surely."

"Yes, indeed, we are. Don't you know Martin Super, the trapper? He is
with us, and now at work in the woods getting ready for raising the
house, as you call it.--Do you know, Mary," said Emma in a low tone to
her sister, "I'm almost afraid of that man, although I do speak so
boldly."

"Martin Super--yes, I know him," replied the hunter, who without any
more ceremony threw his gun into the hollow of his arm, turned rou