r," said a deep voice behind
them.

The young men turned quickly round. Close beside them, and leaning
composedly on a long Indian fowling-piece, stood a tall,
broad-shouldered, sunburned man, apparently about forty years of age.
He was dressed in the usual leathern hunting-coat, cloth leggings, fur
cap, mittens, and moccasins that constitute the winter garb of a hunter;
and had a grave, firm, but good-humoured expression of countenance.

"You've told the truth that time, master," he repeated, without moving
from his place. "The Saskatchewan _is_, to my mind, the best place in
the whole country; and havin' seen a considerable deal o' places in my
time, I can speak from experience."

"Indeed, friend," said Harry, "I'm glad to hear you say so. Come, sit
down beside us, and let's hear something about it."

Thus invited, the hunter seated himself on a stone and laid his gun on
the hollow of his left arm.

"First of all, friend," continued Harry, "do you belong to the fort
here?"

"No," replied the man; "I'm stayin' here just now, but I don't belong to
the place."

"Where do you come from, then, and what's your name?"

"Why, I've comed d'rect from the Saskatchewan with a packet o' letters.
I'm payin' a visit to the missionary village yonder"--the hunter pointed
as he spoke across the lake--"and when the ice breaks up I shall get a
canoe and return again."

"And your name?"

"Why, I've got four or five names. Somehow or other, people have given
me a nickname wherever I ha' chanced to go. But my true name, and the
one I hail by just now, is Jacques Caradoc."

"Jacques Caradoc!" exclaimed Harry, starting with surprise. "You knew a
Charley Kennedy in the Saskatchewan, did you?"

"That did I. As fine a lad as ever pulled a trigger."

"Give us your hand, friend," exclaimed Harry, springing forward and
seizing the hunter's large, hard fist in both hands. "Why, man, Charley
is my dearest friend, and I had a letter from him some time ago in which
he speaks of you, and says you're one of the best fellows he ever met."

"You don't say so," replied the hunter, returning Harry's grasp warmly,
while his eyes sparkled with pleasure, and a quiet smile played at the
corners of his mouth.

"Yes I do," said Harry; "and I'm very nearly as glad to meet with you,
friend Jacques, as I would be to meet with him. But come; it's cold
work talking here. Let's go to my room; there's a fire in the stove.--
Come along, Hammy