ed hereaway wi' all the new-fangled notions o' settlement folk.
We'll dwell in the free wilderness, where there are no tyrannical laws
to hamper a man, an' no nonsensical customs to fix the fashion of his
coat an' leggins. Besides, you'll have Roy an' Nelly an' Walter an'
Larry to keep you company, lass, not to mention our neighbours to look
in upon now and again."

"Very true, Robin," replied the wife, "I have no doubt it will be quite
cheery and homelike in course of time."

She looked out upon the broad bosom of the lake which lay before the
site of their forest home, and sighed. It was evident that Mrs Gore
had a strong partiality for the laws and customs which her husband
abhorred.

The "neighbours" to whom Robin referred lived in a leather tent twenty
miles distant from the Fort. They were an Indian, named "The Black
Swan," his wife, named "The White Swan," and a half-caste trapper, whose
proper name was unknown to all save himself. His cognomen in the
wilderness was "Slugs," a name which originated in his frequent use of
clipped pieces of lead instead of shot in the loading of his gun.

But to return to the point from which we started:--

It was on a cold winter morning that Robin Gore entered his parlour and
sat him down to breakfast.

It was not only cold--very cold; colder than ever was experienced in our
favoured British isles--but it was also very dark. Robin had risen
before daybreak in order to visit his traps, and shoot some game as
early in the day as possible. The larder chanced to be nearly empty
that day, a fact which was all the more to be regretted that it was New
Year's day, and, as Robin remarked, "that day didn't occur more than
once in the year." This statement Larry O'Dowd disputed, affirming that
it occurred "at laste twice ivery year--wance at the beginnin' an' wance
at the end of it!"

"Come along, lad," said Robin, trimming the candle as his nephew Walter
entered, "we'll ha' to make the most of our time to-day, for we dine at
sharp five p.m., an' our dinner--leastwise the most of it--is at this
moment alive an' kickin', if it's not sleepin', in the forest, and has
got to be found and shot yet. Hallo! boy, where are _you_ bound for?"

"For the woods, father, with you and Walter," replied his son Roy,
sitting down and coolly helping himself to a portion of bear's meat,
with which the hunter was regaling himself.

"Nonsense, boy," said Robin, somewhat gruffly.

"You'll not