He received the announcement that he
was to be a life-long companion of the young man, with an expression
at once significant of his pride and his joy.

"Be jabers, but Teddy McFadden is in luck!"

And thus it happened that our three friends were ascending one of the
tributaries of the upper Mississippi on this balmy day in the spring
of 1820. They had been a long time on the journey, but were now
nearing its termination. They had learned from the Indians daily
encountered, the precise location of the large village, in or near
which they had decided to make their home for many and many a year to
come.

After landing, and before starting his fire, Teddy pulled the canoe up
on the bank. It was used as a sort of shelter by their gentler
companion, while he and his master slept outside, in close proximity
to the camp-fire. They possessed a plentiful supply of game at all
times, for this was the Paradise of hunters, and they always landed
and shot what was needed.

"We must be getting well up to the northward," remarked the young
man, as he warmed his hands before the fire. "Don't you notice any
difference in the atmosphere, Cora?"

"Yes; there is a very perceptible change."

"If this illigant fire only keeps up, I'm thinking there'll be a
considerable difference afore long. The ways yees be twisting and
doubling them hands, as if ye had hold of some delightsome soap,
spaaks that yees have already discovered a difference. It is better
nor whisky, fire is, in the long run, providin' you don't swaller
it--the fire, that is."

"Even if swallowed, Teddy, fire is better than whisky, for fire burns
only the body, while whisky burns the soul," answered the minister.

"Arrah, that it does; for I well remimbers the last swig I took a'most
burnt a hole in me shirt, over the bosom, and they say that is where
the soul is located."

"Ah, Teddy, you are a sad sinner, I fear," laughingly observed Mrs.
Richter, at this extravagant allusion.

"A _sad_ sinner! Divil a bit of it. I haven't saan the day for twinty
year whin I couldn't dance at me grandmother's wake, or couldn't use a
shillalah at me father's fourteenth weddin'. Teddy _sad_? Well, that
is a--is a--a mistake," and the injured fellow further expressed his
feelings by piling on the fuel until he had a fire large enough to
have roasted a battalion of prize beeves, had they been spitted before
it.

Darkness at length fairly settled upon the wood and stream; the gloom