uld dispose of it to the highest bidder.

CHAPTER VI.

The Call of the Forest.

From that time onwards throughout the winter, Peter Many-Names was
never more than a few miles away from the homestead. He did a
flourishing business with the Collinsons in the way of small game and
so forth, and appeared to think he had come upon a land of plenty, so
many were the meals with which kindly Mrs. Collinson supplied him.
Soon the farmer began employing him in small jobs about the fences and
farm buildings, which, for some dark reason of his own, Peter
condescended to do, and to do well. He was too proud to be dishonest,
and he was never there when he was not wanted; so that after a few
weeks the inmates of the homestead looked for his silent presence as a
matter of course. Mr. Collinson was interested in him--in his quaint
English, his stately ways, his swiftness, and his untiring
activity--and said that he belonged to none of the tribes which
occasionally visited that neighbourhood, but that he was probably an
outcast from some northern tribe, who, separated from his people for
some reason, and caring little to take up with others, fended for
himself, and lived his own proud, lonely life. And the shrewd farmer
was probably as nearly right as might be.

After a time it seemed to Dick that he never left the house to go to
his work about the farm without seeing the dark face and the cold grey
eyes which had grown so familiar to him. And by degrees Peter's tongue
became loosened, and he told tales in his odd, sing-song English which
sent Dick about his tasks with wide, dreamy eyes and ears that heard
not. Dick feared the Indian as he might have feared all his
temptations embodied in a human form; but he went about with him, and
listened hungrily to his stories, feeling fascinated and attracted in
spite of this wise fear. He did not realise what a great influence
that strong savage nature was gaining over his own.

Thus the winter went on, peacefully and happily to all outward seeming;
but as the year drew closer to the spring it was noticed by watchful
Mr. Collinson that Dick sought Peter's companionship more and more
frequently, and that the Indian's uncanny eyes often rested upon the
English boy with a half-amused, half-malicious expression of power that
was hard to read.

The cold weather held until the end of March, with scarcely a break.
But at the beginning of the month the monotony was broken by an
impor