umley made
a regular practice of assembling the men and reading a sermon from a
book which he had brought for the purpose. And he did not neglect
instruction of another kind, to which I shall refer as well as to our
winter amusements, in the proper place.

During all this time our larder had been well supplied by Blondin with
fresh fish from the lake, and by the Indians with haunches of reindeer
and moose, or elk, venison. They also brought us beaver-meat, the tails
of which were considered the best portions. Bear's-meat was offered us,
but we did not relish it much, possibly from prejudice; but we would
have been glad of it, doubtless, if reduced to short allowance. Of
course wild-fowl of all kinds were plentiful, and many of these were
shot by Lumley and myself, as well as by our men.

Some of the geese we had at first salted, but, the frost having come, we
were by that time able to preserve fish and meat quite fresh for winter
use--so that both net and gun were in constant occupation.

One day, while Lumley and I were sitting at dinner--which we usually
took about noon--we were agreeably surprised by the appearance of a
strange Indian, and still more agreeably surprised by his entering the
hall and holding out a packet to Lumley. Having delivered it, the man,
who looked wayworn, strode to the fire, sat quietly down and began to
smoke a pipe which I had handed to him ready charged.

"Why, what's this?" exclaimed Lumley, unwrapping the covering of the
packet, "not a letter, surely!--yes, I declare it is--and from Macnab
too. Come, this _is_ an unlooked-for treat."

I was quite excited--indeed we both were--for a letter in those regions
was about as rare as snow in July.

Lumley opened it hastily and read as follows:--

"My dear Lumley, you will be surprised to get a letter from me, and
dated, too, from an unknown post. Yes, my boy, like yourself, I have
been transferred from my old home, to this region, which is not more
than two hundred miles from your present residence. The governor sent
me to establish it soon after you left. I have named it the _Mountain
House_, because there's a thing the shape and size of a sugar-loaf
behind it. So, I'll hope to look you up during the winter. Before
going further let me give you a piece of news--I've got my sister out
here to stay with me! Just think of that!"

At this point Lumley laid down the letter and stared at me.

"Why, Max, such a thing was never hea