uarter of Mr. Blyth's
plateful of liver and bacon, and half of Zack's had disappeared, Mat had
finished his frugal meal; had wiped his mouth on the back of his hand,
and the back of his hand on the leg of his trousers; had mixed two
glasses of strong hot rum-and-water for himself and Zack; and had set
to work on the composition of a third tumbler, into which sugar, brandy,
lemon-juice, rum, and hot water all seemed to drop together in such
incessant and confusing little driblets, that it was impossible to tell
which ingredient was uppermost in the whole mixture. When the tumbler
was full, he set it down on the table, with an indicative bang, close to
Valentine's plate.

"Just try a toothful of that to begin with," said Mat. "If you like it,
say Yes; if you don't, say No; and I'll make it better next time."

"You are very kind, very kind indeed," answered Mr. Blyth, eyeing the
tumbler by his side with some little confusion and hesitation; "but
really, though I should be shocked to appear ungrateful, I'm afraid I
must own--Zack, you ought to have told your friend--"

"So I did," said Zack, sipping his rum-and-water with infinite relish.

"The fact is, my dear sir," continued Valentine, "I have the most
wretched head in the world for strong liquor of any kind--"

"Don't call it strong liquor," interposed Mat, emphatically tapping the
rim of his guest's tumbler with his fore-finger.

"Perhaps," pursued Mr. Blyth, with a polite smile, "I ought to have said
grog."

"Don't call it grog," retorted Mat, with two disputatious taps on the
rim of the glass.

"Dear me!" asked Valentine, amazedly, "what is it then?"

"It's Squaw's Mixture," answered Mat, with three distinct taps of
asseveration.

Mr. Blyth and Zack laughed, under the impression that their queer
companion was joking with them. Mat looked steadily and sternly from one
to the other; then repeated with the gruffest gravity--"I tell you, it's
Squaw's Mixture."

"What a very curious name! how is it made?" asked Valentine.

"Enough Brandy to spile the Water. Enough Rum to spile the Brandy and
Water. Enough Lemon to spile the Rum _and_ Brandy _and_ Water. Enough
Sugar to spile everything. That's 'Squaw's Mixture,'" replied Mat with
perfect calmness and deliberation.

Zack began to laugh uproariously. Mat became more inflexibly grave than
ever. Mr. Blyth felt that he was growing interested on the subject of
the Squaw's Mixture. He stirred it diffidently with h