ot long since finished supper. In no way loth to do
so, she then went and sat down next the old dame, who
regarded her with considerable curiosity and undisguised
favour. Katie, seeing that she could safely leave her
charge there, spoke a few words in a strange patois of
Cree and French to Pepin, and, calling Pierre, left the
house.

Dorothy glanced in wonder round the common sitting-room
of this singular family. It was a picturesque interior,
decorated with all kinds of odds and ends. There were
curios in the way of Indian war weapons, scalping knives,
gorgeously beaded moccasins and tobacco pouches, barbaric
plumed head-dresses, stuffed birds and rattlesnakes,
butterflies, strings of birds' eggs, and grinning and
truly hideous Indian masks for use in devil and give-away
dances. At the far end of the room was a rude cobbler's
bench and all the paraphernalia of one who works in boots,
moccasins, and harness. Thus was betrayed the calling
of Pepin Quesnelle.

But it was the man himself, with his extraordinary
personality, who fascinated Dorothy. He was standing with
his hands behind his back and his legs apart, talking to
the sulky, uncompromising half-breed who had brought her
there. He was not more than three feet in height, and he
seemed all head and body. His arms were abnormally long
and muscular. He had a dark shock head of hair, and his
little black moustache was carefully waxed. His forehead
was low and broad, and his aquiline nose, like his
jet-black, almond-shaped eyes, betrayed an Indian ancestor.
His face betokened intelligence, conceit, and a keen
sense of sardonic humour; still, there was nothing in it
positively forbidding. To those whom he took a fancy to,
he was doubtless loyal and kind, albeit his temperament
was of a fiery and volatile nature. In this he showed
the Gallic side of his origin. It was very evident that,
despite his inconsiderable size, his hulking and sulky
neighbour stood in considerable awe of him.

"Pshaw! Idiot! Pudding-head!" he was saying. "But it is
like to as many Muskymote dogs you are--let one get down
and all the others attack him. What, I ask, did your
Riel do for you in '70? Did he not show the soles of the
moccasins he had not paid for as soon as he heard that
the red-coats were close to Fort Garry, and make for the
States? Bah, you fools, and he will do so again--if he
gets the chance! But he will not, mark my words, Bastien
Lagrange; this time the red-coats will