orth,--a
proposal which he accepted with pleasure,--for the strong-boned Indian
had an adventurous spirit as well as a healthy frame.

Swiftarrow was a brave and powerful Indian, and was esteemed one of the
best hunters of his tribe; but no one seeing him in camp in a quiescent
state would have thought him to be possessed of much energy, for he was
slow and deliberate in his movements, and withal had a lazy look about
his eyes. But the sight of a bear or moose-deer had the effect of
waking him up in a way that caused his dark eyes to flash and his large
frame to move with cat-like activity.

When Reuben Guff discovered him on the shore of Lake Superior, he was
seated at the door of his skin lodge, anointing his hair, which was long
and black, with bear's grease--the "genuine article," without even the
admixture of a drop of scent!--so pure, in fact, that the Indian basted
his steaks and anointed his hair with grease from the same box.

"Hallo! Swiftarrow," exclaimed Reuben, as he sauntered up to the
savage, with his gun on his shoulder, "ye seem to be beautifyin' yerself
to-day--not goin' to get married, eh?"

Swiftarrow, whose long hair hung over his face like a glossy curtain,
tossed aside his locks and gazed earnestly at the hunter. A slight
smile and a pleasant gleam lighted up his dark countenance as he wiped
his greasy right hand on his legging and extended it, exclaiming,
"watchee!" by which he meant, what cheer?

"What cheer? what cheer?" replied Reuben, with a broad but quiet grin,
as he shook his friend's hand heartily.

Each man understood the other's language perfectly; but each appeared to
prefer to talk in his own tongue; for while Reuben addressed the red man
in English, Swiftarrow replied in Indian. This had been an understood
arrangement between them ever since the time when, as lads, they had
first met and formed a close friendship, on the shores of Lake Huron.

"Is my brother's trail to be through the woods or on the waters? Does
he go hunting or trading?" inquired the Indian, after the first
salutations were over.

"Well, I may say that I'm neither goin' a-huntin' or tradin'--here, fill
yer pipe wi' baccy from my pouch; it's better than yours, I'll be bound.
In a manner, too, I'm goin' both to hunt an' trade in a small way; but
my main business on this trip is to be diskivery."

The Indian uttered a sound, which meant that he did not understand.

"I'm goin' to sarch out new lands," ex