n and
the moon."

"My son," returned Nazinred, "I have not lived very long yet, but I have
lived long enough to see, and feel, and know that the kind spirit is the
right spirit, because it warms the heart, and opens the eyes, and gives
light, and it is the only spirit that can make friends of foes. Is it
not better to live at peace and in good-will with all men than to live
as enemies?"

"Ho!" responded Mozwa, by way of assent.

"Then the peaceful spirit is the right one," rejoined the chief, with a
long-drawn sigh that indicated a tendency to close the discussion.

As Mozwa felt himself to be in a somewhat confused mental condition, he
echoed the sigh, laid down his pipe, drew his blanket round him, and,
without the formality of "Good-night," resigned himself to repose.

Nazinred, after taking a look at the weather, pondering, perchance, on
the probabilities of the morrow, and throwing a fresh log on the fire,
also wrapped his blanket round him and lost himself in slumber.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

WILD DOINGS OF THE FUR-TRADERS AND RED MEN.

In course of time, after many a hard struggle with rushing rapids and
not a few narrow escapes from dangerous rocks, the Indian voyagers swept
out at last upon the broad bosom of Great Bear Lake.

This mighty inland sea of fresh water--about two hundred miles in
diameter, and big enough to engulf the greater part of Scotland--was, at
the time we write of, and still is, far beyond the outmost verge of
civilisation, in the remotest solitudes of the Great Lone Land.

Here the fur-traders had established a small trading-post close to the
shores of the lake. It was in charge of a Scotchman--we had almost said
of course; for it would seem as if these hardy dwellers in the north of
our island have a special gift for penetrating into and inhabiting the
wildest and most unlikely parts of the world. His name was MacSweenie,
and he had a few Orkney-men and half-castes to keep him company while
vegetating there.

It was a sort of event, a mild excitement, a pink--if not a red--letter
day, when our Indians arrived at that lonely outpost, and MacSweenie,
who was in the prime of life and the depths of _ennui_, gave the
strangers a hearty and warm reception.

Nazinred had been there before, and was able somewhat to subdue his
feelings of admiration and not-quite-exhausted surprise at all the
wonderful things he saw; but to the others it was comparatively new, and
Mozwa had never be