replied Bois-Rose, "it was a grand idea, Pepe; in the trouble of
my mind I should not have thought of it, and yet it was such a simple
thing."

"Simple ideas are always the last to present themselves," rejoined Pepe.
"But do you know, Bois-Rose," added he, in a low voice, "it proves that
in the desert it is imprudent to venture with one whom you love more
than life, since fear for him takes away a man's senses. I tell you
frankly, Bois-Rose, you have not been like yourself."

"It is true; I scarcely recognise myself," replied the Canadian, simply;
"and yet--"

He did not finish, but fell into a profound reverie, during which, like
a man whose body only is present, and his soul absent, he appeared no
longer to watch the movements of the island. For the hunter who, during
twenty years has lived the free life of the desert, to renounce this
life seemed like death; but to renounce the society of Fabian, and the
consolation of having his eyes closed by his adopted son, was still
worse than death. Fabian and the desert were the two dominant
affections of his life, and to abandon either seemed impossible.

His reverie, however, was soon interrupted by Pepe, who had for some
minutes been casting uneasy glances towards one of the banks. Through
the fog he fancied he could perceive the fantastic forms which trees
appear to take in a mist. They looked like indistinct phantoms, covered
with long draperies, hanging over the river.

"We are going wrong, Bois-Rose," said he, "are not those the tops of the
willows on the bank?"

"It is true," cried Bois-Rose, rousing himself; "and by the fires being
still visible it is evident how little progress we have made in the last
half hour."

At that moment the island began to move more rapidly, and the trees
became more distinct. The hunters looked anxiously at each other. One
of the fires was more clearly seen, and they could even distinguish an
Indian sentinel in his frightful battle-costume. The long mane of a
bison covered his head, and above that waved a plume of feathers.
Bois-Rose pointed him out to Pepe, but luckily the fog was so thick that
the Indian, rendered himself visible by the fire, near which he stood,
could not yet see the island. However, as if an instinct had warned him
to be watchful, he raised his head and shook back the flowing hair which
ornamented it.

"Can he have any suspicion?" said Bois-Rose.

"Ah! if a rifle made no more noise than an arrow, w