he storm raged without, the wigwams were so well
protected by the cedar-bushes that the fierce wind failed to reach us.

In the morning, when we came out of our wigwam we found that the squaws
had prepared breakfast; which consisted of dried venison, cakes made
from Indian corn, and fish which had been caught before the frost set
in, and had remained hard-frozen ever since.

"You can now continue your journey, for the storm has ceased; and may
the Great Spirit protect you!" observed Kepenau, looking up at the sky,
across which the clouds were now scarcely moving.

Uncle Mark inquired why he did not bring his camp nearer the settlement.

"I will tell you," answered Kepenau. "Though I have been ever friendly
with the white men, and value the advantages to be obtained from them,
there is one thing for which I fear them,--their accursed `fire water.'
Already it has slain thousands of my people, or reduced them to a state
lower than the brutes which perish; and I know not whether my young men
would resist the temptation were it placed in their way."

"But all the white men do not sell the `fire water' of which you speak,"
observed Uncle Mark. "I have none in my hut."

"But while one among you possesses the poison, and is ready to barter it
with my people, the harm may be done," answered Kepenau. "Until I am
sure that none of the `fire water' exists in your settlement, I will not
allow my people to come near it."

"I am afraid, then, that you will fail to civilise them, as you desire,"
observed Uncle Mark.

"Do you call it civilising them, to teach them the vices of the white
men?" exclaimed the Indian in a tone of scorn. "If so, then I would
rather that they remained savages, as you call them, than obtain
knowledge at such a price."

"I believe that you are right," answered Uncle Mark, as we bade our host
and his family good-bye; "and I have learned more than one lesson from
you."

Kepenau accompanied us to the bank of the river; where we put on our
skates, and continued our course without interruption till we caught
sight of several thin wreaths of smoke above the tops of the trees.

"Sure, that smoke must come from the lumberers' fires," observed Mike.

"Such is probably the case; but it is just possible that it may proceed
from a camp of Indians, who might not be so friendly as those we left
this morning," said my uncle.

Still we were not to be stopped, and on we skated. Even should we meet
enemies, w