oys, no dogs, no
cats, about the quiet Beaver River. Once in a long while, a solitary
figure might be perceived going to or returning from the store. The only
possible thief of the fish would have been a stray mink or otter
prospecting for a new home, unless, indeed, Madame's fowls had escaped
from the poultry yard. Coristine brought the string to his disguised
companion, just as the hostess arrived to enquire after his health and
renew the French conversation. Having replied politely to her questions,
the schoolmaster expressed his regret that the fish were so poor and
especially that he had been deceived in the "suceurs." Madame did not
comprehend, and said "Plait il?" whereupon he called his friend near and
pointed out the offending fish. "Aw oui, M'syae, ce sont des mulets de
l'eau douce, un petit peu trop tawrd dons la saison, autrement un
morceau friaund." Then she proceeded to say that the smaller fish could
be cooked for supper, "comme les eperlans de law baw," pointing with her
finger eastward, to designate, by the latter words, the Gulf of St.
Lawrence. She would boil the mullets, if Monsieur did not object, and
give them to the fowls; did Monsieur take an interest in fowls?
Generously the dominie handed over all the fish, through Coristine, for
Madame to do what she liked with, and expressed an interest in various
descriptions of poultry, the names of which he was entirely ignorant of.
The interview over, he returned to his book, and the lawyer went to look
for his civil acquaintance, Mr. Toner. Him he found on the bridge, and
in a somewhat sulky humour, apparently by no means pleased at being
sought out. Not wishing to intrude, Coristine made an excuse for his
appearance in the bits of board, which he professed to have forgotten to
take out of the dug-out. "That sort of lumber don't count for much in
these parts," remarked Ben, suspiciously, and his intending companion
retired, feeling that, though a limb of the law, he was a miserable
sham.

While in the chamber which witnessed the dominie's transformation, the
lawyer had perceived that its window commanded the bridge and the
adjoining parts of the river. Leaving his friend in the enjoyment of his
book, he ascended to the room, and watched like a detective. Soon he saw
a waggon roll up to the bridge, and, almost simultaneously, a large punt
in which was Ben Toner, come from nowhere. Three bundles of apparent
grindstones were laboriously conveyed from the wa