istant
bird.

The pedlar muttered a cautious "goot!" and looked warily around him.
Nothing worth stealing was visible, at least nothing small enough to
carry away.

His prying eye, however, detected an old chest in the corner, half
covered with deer and other skins, and the key of this chest was in
the lock.

The pedlar rose cautiously, and listened.

The young man was evidently preparing the venison steaks from the
noise he made, an occupation which he accompanied with the low, Indian
humming.

The pedlar went on the points of his toes to the chest, carefully
turned the key, and opened it. With a quick hand he turned over its
contents, looking round cautiously.

After some search, he drew forth a silver spoon, and what seemed to be
a necklace of red beads, the two ends of which were brought together
by a circular gold plate. Just as the pedlar thrust these objects into
his capacious breast-pocket, the door opened, and Verty entered.

But the boy did not observe him--he quickly and cautiously closed the
chest, and began examining one of the skins on the lid.

Verty looked up from the steaks in his hand, observed the occupation
of the pedlar, and began to laugh, and talk of his hunting.

The pedlar drew a long breath, returned to his pack, and sat down.

As he did so, the old Indian woman came in, and the boy ran to her,
and kissed her hand, and placed it on his head. This was Indian
fashion.

"Oh, _ma mere_!" he cried, "I've seen Redbud, and had such a fine
time, and I'm so happy! I'm hungry, too; and so is this honest fellow
with the pack. There go the steaks!"

And Verty threw them on the gridiron, and burst out laughing.

In a quarter of an hour they were placed on the rude table, and the
three persons sat down--Verty laughing, the old woman smiling at him,
the pedlar sullen and omnivorous.

After devouring everything on the table, the worthy took his departure
with his pack upon his shoulders.

"I don't like that man, but let him go," said Verty. "Now, _ma mere_,
I'm going out to hunt a bit for you."

The old woman gazed fondly on him, and this was all Verty needed. He
rose, called the dogs, and loaded his gun.

"Good-bye, _ma mere_" he said, going out; "don't let any more of these
pedlar people come here. I feel as if that one who has just gone away,
had done me some harm. Come, Longears! come, Wolf!"

And Verty took his way through the forest, still humming his low,
Indian song.

C