dded
happiness."

His eye lit up a moment, and an expression of keen and almost cruel
intent contracted his gaze; then, with a look of disdain, he seemed to
throw off some evil influence, and a look of pity softened his face.

"Yes, if I were to resent these affronts--for such they are--with one
half the virulence which animates them, her pride would alienate us
forever, and I should be free. There are few who would blame me, and
many who would scorn to do aught else. In truth I am almost decided to
answer this precious _billet-doux_ in the same vein in which it was
written. Ah, it was not all delusion that made yonder madman think that
evil spirits haunt these icy wastes. It was not thus I felt when
together we voyaged across that summer sea; and the vows we plighted
then may not lightly be broken. I will answer patiently, and as becomes
the past. As to the future, it will bring due reward or punishment here
or hereafter."

From these somewhat morbid self-communings, which we introduce for a
purpose hereafter to be disclosed, La Salle started, seized his
glittering skates, and taking his gun, glided with long, powerful
strokes across the inner bay towards the ice-houses of the other party,
which lay within the embouchure of Trois-Lieue Creek. The ice was
almost perfectly level, save where a heavy drift had formed a small
mound around which it was better to steer, although the sleety crust had
frozen so hard that the broad-runnered Belgian skates would run almost
anywhere. At the first ice-house he found Risk and Davies, who had done
little or nothing for some days, and talked of going home at the end of
the week.

"Indian Peter gets about all the geese that go through here, and there's
little show for us," said Davies.

"Where is his ice-house?" asked La Salle.

"Just up the cove--the nearest of those two," answered Risk.

"I guess I'll have a look at his outfit, and then go and meet the boys
at the block-house, for they have never been here before, and the track
can't be very plain now." So saying, La Salle skated up to the Indian
stand, almost half a mile distant.

"One-armed Peter," as he was commonly called among his tribesmen, had
neither the means nor the inclination to deviate much from the
traditionary usages of his tribe, and was found kneeling, or, rather,
"sitting man-fashion," as the vernacular Micmac hath it, although we
call it "tailor-fashion," within a circular, fort-like enclosure, some
twel