e himself was never
known to be behind his appointed time at his destination.

"'Tahata,' for such was his name, was, however, a character of great
interest; even to the barbarous tribes through whose territories he
passed. He was a species of savage newspaper, recounting various details
respecting the hunting and fishing seasons,--the price of skins at
Quebec or Montreal,--what was the peltry most in request, and how
it would bring its best price. Cautiously abstaining from the local
politics of these small states, his information only bore on such topics
as are generally useful and interesting, and never for a moment partook
of any partisan character; besides, he had ever some petty commission or
other, from the squaws, to discharge at Quebec. There was an amber bead,
or a tin ornament, a bit of red ribbon or a glass button, or some such
valuable, every where he went; and his coming was an event as much
longed and looked for, as any other that marked their monotonous
existence.

"He rested for a few days at our village, when I learned these few
particulars of his life, and at once resolved, come what might, to make
my escape with him, and, if possible, reach Quebec. An opportunity,
fortunately, soon offered for my doing so with facility. The day of the
courier's departure was fixed for a great fishing excursion, on which
the tribe were to be absent for several days. Affecting illness, I
remained on shore, and never stirred from the wigwam till the last canoe
had disappeared from sight: then I slowly sauntered out, and telling the
squaws that I would stroll about, for an hour or so, to breathe the air,
I followed the track which was pointed out to me by the courier, who
had departed early on the same morning. Before sunset I came up with my
friend, and with a heart overflowing with delight, sat down to partake
of the little supper he had provided for our first day's journey; after
that, each day was to take care of itself.

"Then began a series of adventures, to which all I have hitherto
told you, are, as nothing. It was the wild life of the prairies in
companionship with one, who felt as much at home in the recesses of a
pine forest, as ever I did in the snug corner of mine inn. Now, it was a
night spent under the starry sky, beside some clear river's bank, where
the fish lay motionless beneath the red glare of our watch-fire; now, we
bivouacked in a gloomy forest, planting stockades around to keep off the
wild bea