s his sober reply; "but he'll be a rough
mount, I reckon."

"No doubt of that," assented Pepe. "I know he'll be rough at first; but
the main thing was to get hold of him. I had a lucky hand to hook him
as I did."

"I hope your neck will prove as lucky as your hand. For my part, I'd
rather walk ten leagues than be on his back for ten minutes. But see,
comrade!" continued the big trapper, pointing to the stars, "they're
gone down yonder! you'll need some sleep before morning. Lie down while
I take my turn of the watch."

"I'll take your advice," replied Pepe, at the same time stretching
himself out upon his back, with his feet to the fire--in which attitude
he was soon asleep.

The Canadian rose to his feet, took several turns round the fire--as if
to drive away any remains of sleep that might be lurking in his eyes--
then sat down again, with his back resting against the stump of a tree.

He had not been long seated before he got up once more, and, approaching
with caution, stood over Tiburcio. For several minutes he remained in
this attitude, attentively examining the features of the young man: he
then returned to his seat by the stump.

"Just about _his_ age, if he is still living," muttered he to himself.
"But what chance have I to recognise in a grown man the features of an
infant scarce four years old?"

A smile of disdain played for an instant on his lips, as if he were
chiding himself for the silliness of his conjectures.

"And yet," he continued, his countenance changing its expression, "I
have seen and taken part in too many strange events--I have been too
long face to face with Nature--to doubt the power of Providence. Why
should I consider this a miracle? It was not one when I chanced upon
the boat adrift that carried that poor infant and its murdered mother!
No, it was the hand of God. Why might not the same hand restore him to
me in the midst of the desert? The ways of Providence are inscrutable."

As if this reflection had given birth to new hopes, the Canadian again
rose to his feet, and approaching, stooped once more over the prostrate
form of Tiburcio.

"How often," said he, "have I thus gazed on my little Fabian as he
slept! Well, whoever you are, young man," continued he, "you have not
come to my fire without finding a friend. May God do for my poor Fabian
what I am disposed to do for you!"

Saying this, he once again returned to his seat, and remained for a long
time reflecti