to your nag."

So saying, their host went out and left his unexpected, but evidently
welcome, guests to make themselves comfortable.

Although Jonas Bellew was a recluse, he was by no means an ascetic. He
was marked by deep gravity of countenance coupled with a kindly humorous
disposition. No one knew where he came from, or why he had taken up his
abode in such a lonely spot. Many of the rough fellows who hang on the
outskirts of the wilderness had tried as they said, to "pump" him on
these points, but Jonas was either a dry well or a deep one, for pumping
brought forth nothing. He gained a livelihood by shooting, fishing,
trapping wild animals for their skins, and, sometimes, by doing what he
called "odd jobs" in the settlements.

"Your home appears to me to grow wilder every time I see it," said
Redding, as Bellew re-entered the hut, and busied himself in spreading
on a rough deal table the materials of a plain but substantial meal.

"That seems to be the idea of most men who come here," replied the
trapper, "but it's not many that favour me with a visit."

"Ha! vraiment, dat must be true," interposed the Canadian, "for no body
vill com' here 'xcept them as do want hims legs broke."

"Well, I have seen a few damaged shins and broken heads since I came to
this location," said Jonas, "but such accidents occur chiefly among the
Canadian French, who seem on the whole to be a clumsy set."

"Not von half so clumsy as de Engleesh, or Irish, or Scosh," retorted Le
Rue.

"Perhaps you're right, an' mayhap you're wrong, lad, anyway here is
supper. The Frenchmen are always good at their victuals, so sit in an'
go to work. Take the keg, Mister Redding. I've not found time yet to
make chairs, but it's wonderful how well a man gets along without such
luxuries."

"Especially when a man sits down to a venison-steak like this," said the
fur-trader, taking the offered seat, while his man sat down on a block
of wood set on end, and prepared to prove the truth of the trapper's
assertion in regard to French capacity for food.

"'Taint venison," said Bellew, assisting his companions to the meat in
question, "it's bear."

"Indeed? and not bad food for a hungry man," returned Redding, as he
began supper. "Where got you him?"

"Down near Jenkins Creek, where the McLeods are setting up their
saw-mill."

"The McLeods!" exclaimed Redding, looking up suddenly, "have you seen
the McLeods?"

"Ay, I've bin helpin' them a bi