e in a year he could watch for it by night,
live for it by day.

But by day he knew his folly. He was lost, and in forgetting lay his
only peace. He never once accused his fortune nor railed against a
God he could not believe in. He had come to disaster through his own
doubts; himself had been the only real enemy, and that sorry self
must be hidden and buried out of sight.

On the whole he was burying it successfully. He liked these
Ojibways, and had unlearnt his first disgust of their uncleanly
habits, though as yet he could not imitate them. He had quite
unlearnt his old loathing of Menehwehna for the sergeant's murder.
Menehwehna was a fine fellow, a chief too, respected among all the
nations west of Fort Niagara. John's surprise had begun at Fort
Rouille, where, on Menehwehna's word of credit only, the Tobacco
Indians had fetched out paint and clothes to disguise him, and had
smuggled him, asking no questions, past the fort and up through the
Lake aux Claies to Lake Huron. At Michilimackinac a single speech
from Menehwehna had won his welcome from the tribe; and they were
hunting now on the borders of the Ottawas through the favour of
Menehwehna's friendship with the Ottawa chief at l'Arbre Croche.
John saw that the other Indians considered him fortunate in
Menehwehna's favour, and if he never understood the full extent of
the condescension, at least his respect grew for one who was at once
so kingly and so simple, who shared his people's hardships, and was
their master less by rank than by wisdom in council, skill of hand,
and native power to impress and rule.

Of the deer especially Menehwehna was a mighty hunter; and in
February the wealth of the camp increased at a surprising rate.
For at this season the snow becomes hard enough to bear the hunter
and his dogs, but the sharp feet of the deer break through its crust
and his legs are cut to the bone. Often a hunting party would kill a
dozen stags in two or three hours, and soon the camp reckoned up five
thousand pounds of dried venison, all of which had to be carried back
seventy miles to the shore of the lake near l'Arbre Croche, where the
canoes had been left.

Early in March the women began to prepare the bundles, and in the
second week the return began, all starting at daybreak with as much
as they could carry, and marching until noon, when they built a
scaffold, piled their loads upon it, and returned to the camp for
more. When all had been car