he meditated on this step, the old woman died. About the same
time Reuben Guff made proposals to him to join him on a second "v'yage
of diskivery." The Indian agreed; got married off-hand, and took his
bride along with him. We now find them all four at the Lake of the
Hills.

It may be as well to observe, in passing, that Indian brides are usually
more robust than those of civilised communities. They are quite
competent to follow their lords on the most arduous canoe voyages, and,
besides being able to wield the paddle with great dexterity, are
exceedingly useful in managing what may be styled the domestic matters
of the camp. They also keep up a constant supply of the Indian's
indispensable foot-gear--moccasins--which are so slender in their nature
that a pair may be completely worn-out in a single day of hard hunting.

The brown bride, therefore, was not a hindrance to the party, but a
useful member of it, as well as a pleasant companion. True, her
companionship consisted chiefly in answering "yes" and "no" when spoken
to, and in smiling pleasantly at all times; but this was sufficient to
satisfy the moderate demands of her male friends upon her intellectual
resources.

"Fort Chipewyan at _last_," said Reuben, resting his paddle across the
canoe and looking earnestly towards the horizon; "I hope we ain't too
late after all our pushin' on. It would be hard to find that Monsieur
Mackenzie had started."

"Too much ice in the lake," said Swiftarrow. "He has not gone yet."

"I'm not so sure o' that," observed Lawrence. "If reports be true,
Monsieur Mackenzie is not the man to wait until the ice is all off the
lakes and nothin' but plain sailin' lies before him."

"That's true, lad," replied Reuben, resuming his paddle. "I wonder," he
murmured to himself, as he gazed wistfully towards the unknown north, "I
wonder if the big river is really there, an' if it _do_ jine the sea?"

That same question was put to himself that same evening--though not for
the first time--by one of the inhabitants of Fort Chipewyan. The fort
was a mere group of two or three log-huts. In the largest of these huts
sat a man whose strongly-marked handsome countenance gave evidence of a
bold enterprising spirit and a resolute will. He pored over a map for
some time, carefully tracing a few pencil-lines into the blank spaces on
the paper, and then murmured, in words which were almost identical with
those of Reuben Guff, "I wonder if