. He went to rest at last on a buffalo robe
in a corner of the hall in a state of complete exhaustion and perfect
felicity.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE WILDERNESS AGAIN--NEW PLANS MOOTED--TREACHEROUS ICE, AND A BRAVE
RESCUE.

The well-known disinclination of time and tide to wait for any man holds
good in the wilderness of the Great Nor'-west, as elsewhere.

Notwithstanding the momentous events which took place at Fort Wichikagan
and in Colorado, as detailed in preceding chapters, the winter passed
away as usual, spring returned, and the voice of the grey-goose and
plover began once more to gladden the heart of exiled man.

Jack Lumley sat on a rustic chair in front of the Hall, gazing with
wistful eyes at the still ice-covered lake, and occasionally consulting
an open letter in his hand with frowning looks of meditation. The sweet
voice of Jessie Lumley came from the interior of the Hall, trilling a
tuneful Highland air, which, sweeping over the lawn and lake, mingled
with the discords of the plover and geese, thus producing a species of
wild-wood harmony.

Peter Macnab--who, since the memorable day when the table became a
split-camel under his weight, had been to the Mountain Fort and got back
again to Wichikagan--came up, sat down on a bench beside his
brother-in-law, and said,--"Shall I become a prophet?"

"Perhaps you'd better not, Macnab. It is not safe to sail under false
colours, or pretend to powers which one does not possess."

"But what if I feel a sort of inspiration which convinces me that I do
possess prophetic powers, at least to some extent?"

"Then explode and relieve yourself by all means," said Lumley.

"You have read that letter," resumed Macnab, "at least fifty times, if
you have read it once."

"If you had said that I had read it a hundred and fifty times," returned
Lumley, "you would have been still under the mark."

"Just so. And you have meditated over it, and dreamed about it, and
talked it over with your wife at least as many times--if not more."

"Your claim to rank among the prophets is indisputable, Macnab--at least
as regards the past. What have you got to say about the future?"

"The future is as clear to me, my boy, as yonder sun, which gleams in
the pools that stud the ice on Lake Wichikagan."

"I am afraid, brother-in-law," returned Lumley, with a pitiful smile,
"that your intellects are sinking to a par with those of the geese which
fly over the pools referr