in' where
ye are. And what," continued Dick, "may be the name o' the bourgeois
who speaks to me?"

"My name is Cameron--Walter Cameron--a well-known name among the
Scottish hills, although it sounds a little strange here. And now,
young man, will you join my party as guide, and afterwards remain as
trapper? It will pay you better, I think, than roving about alone."

Dick shook his head and looked grave. "I'll guide you," said he, "as
far as my knowledge 'll help me; but after that I must return to look
for two comrades whom I have lost. They have been driven into the
mountains by a band of Injuns. God grant they may not have bin
scalped."

The trader's face looked troubled, and he spoke with one of his Indians
for a few minutes in earnest, hurried tones.

"What were they like, young man?"

Dick described them.

"The same," continued the trader; "they've been seen, lad, not more than
two days ago, by this Indian here, when he was out hunting alone some
miles away from our camp. He came suddenly on a band of Indians, who
had two prisoners with them, such as you describe. They were stout,
said you?"

"Yes, both of them," cried Dick, listening with intense eagerness.

"Ay. They were tied to their horses, an' from what I know of these
fellows I'm sure they're doomed. But I'll help you, my friend, as well
as I can. They can't be far from this. I treated my Indian's story
about them as a mere fabrication, for he's the most notorious liar in my
company; but he seems to have spoken truth for once."

"Thanks, thanks, good sir," cried Dick. "Had we not best turn back and
follow them at once?"

"Nay, friend, not quite so fast," replied Cameron, pointing to his
people. "These must be provided for first, but I shall be ready before
the sun goes down. And now, as I presume you don't bivouac in the snow,
will you kindly conduct us to your encampment, if it be not far hence?"

Although burning with impatience to fly to the rescue of his friends,
Dick felt constrained to comply with so reasonable a request, so he led
the way to his camping-place, where the band of fur-traders immediately
began to pitch their tents, cut down wood, kindle fires, fill their
kettles with water, cook their food, and, in fact, make themselves
comfortable. The wild spot which, an hour before, had been so still,
and grand, and gloomy, was now, as if by magic, transformed into a
bustling village, with bright fires blazing among the r