nd,
and walked away in the direction of his own hut.

"Well, Mary," observed Emma, after a pause of a few seconds, during
which they watched the receding form of the hunter, "the old gentleman
is not over-polite. Suppose we go back and narrate our first adventure?"

"Let us walk up to where Alfred and Martin Super are at work, and tell
them," replied Mary.

They soon gained the spot where the men were felling the trees, and made
known to Alfred and Martin what had taken place.

"He is angered, miss," observed Martin; "I guessed as much; well, if he
don't like it he must squat elsewhere."

"How do you mean squat elsewhere?"

"I mean, miss, that if he don't like company so near him he must shift
and build his wigwam further off."

"But, why should he not like company? I should have imagined that it
would be agreeable rather than otherwise," replied Mary Percival.

"You may think so, miss; but Malachi Bone thinks otherwise; and it's
natural; a man who has lived all his life in the woods, all alone, his
eye never resting, his ear ever watching; catching at every sound, even
to the breaking of a twig or the falling of a leaf; sleeping with his
finger on his trigger and one eye half open, gets used to no company but
his own, and can't abide it. I recollect the time that I could not. Why,
miss, when a man hasn't spoken a word perhaps for months, talking is a
fatigue, and, when he hasn't heard a word spoken for months, listening
is as bad. It's all custom, miss, and Malachi, as I guessed, don't like
it, and so he's _rily_ and angered. I will go see him after the work is
over."

"But he has a wife, Martin, has he not?"

"Yes; but she's an Indian wife, Master Alfred, and Indian wives don't
speak unless they're spoken to."

"What a recommendation," said Alfred, laughing; "I really think I shall
look after an Indian wife, Emma."

"I think you had better," replied Emma. "You'd be certain of a quiet
house,--when _you_ were out of it,--and when at home, you would have all
the talk to yourself, which is just what you like. Come, Mary, let us
leave him to dream of his squaw."

The men selected by the commandant of the fort were well used to handle
the ax; before dusk, many trees had been felled, and were ready for
sawing into lengths. The tents had all been pitched: those for the
Campbells on the knoll we have spoken of; Captain Sinclair's and that
for the soldiers about a hundred yards distant; the fires were lighted,