bed-quilt. Quilts of this sort she presented
periodically, with much ceremony and demonstration of regard, to her
most intimate friends. In that region the old lady had not many
intimate friends, but then it luckily took much time to produce a quilt.

The quilt then in hand--at that time near its completion--was for Eve.

"Thank you _so_ much for your venison," said Mrs Liston, as the hunter,
with an air of native dignity, laid the haunch at her feet. "Take it to
the kitchen, dear," she added to Mrs Temple, who was pouring out the
tea.

"It has just come in time," said Mrs Temple, with a pleasant nod to Big
Otter; "we had quite run out of fresh meat, and your friend Muxbee is
such a lazy boy that he never touches a gun. In fact I don't know how
to get him out of the house even for an hour."

As this was said in English, Big Otter did not understand it, but when
he saw the speaker stoop to pick up the venison, he stepped quickly
forward and anticipated her. "Thank you, carry it this way," said Aunt
Temple (as I had begun to style her), leading the Indian to the pantry
in rear of the cottage.

"Well, Big Otter," said I, when they returned, "now do you find the
country round here in regard to game?"

"There is much game," he answered.

"Then you'll make up your mind to pitch your wigwam here, I hope, and
make it your home."

"No, Big Otter's heart is in his own land in the far north. He will go
back to it."

"What! and forsake Waboose?" said Eve, looking up from her work with an
expression of real concern.

With a gratified air the Indian replied, "Big Otter will return."

"Soon!" I asked.

"Not very long."

"When do you start?"

"Before yon sun rises again," said Big Otter, pointing to the westward,
where the heavens above, and the heavens reflected in the lake below,
were suffused with a golden glow.

"Then I shall have to spend the most of the night writing," said I, "for
I cannot let you go without a long letter to my friend Lumley, and a
shorter one to Macnab. I have set my heart on getting them both to
leave the service, and come here to settle alongside of me."

"You see, your friend Muxbee," said Aunt Temple, using the Indian's
pronunciation of my name, "is like the fox which lost his tail. He
wishes all other foxes to cut off _their_ tails so as to resemble him."

"Am I to translate that?" I asked.

"If you can and will."

Having done so, I continued,--"But seriously, Big Otter,