g and
Black Bull Pup.

"_Mais_, they are beautiful children of the tepees," he
murmured. "It would be easy to kill, but that would not
be of the commandments. 'He who lives by the sword shall
perish by the sword.' No; no man's blood shall stain the
hands of Pepin Quesnelle. Ah! now I have it. So!"

If the dwarf drew the line at killing, he was still as
full of mischief as a human being could well be. He had
an impish turn of mind, and hastened to gratify the same.
He took the two rifles and at once proceeded to draw the
charges, then with a smartness and lightness of touch
that was surprising, he possessed himself of their
sheath-knives. He placed Antoine on its haunches between
them, and threatened him with dire vengeance if he moved.
He himself clambered on to a rock over their heads, at
the same time not forgetting to take a few stones in his
pockets. His eyes gleamed and rolled in his head, and
he chuckled in a truly alarming fashion. Then he dropped
a stone on to the pit of Black Bull Pup's stomach, and
the other on to the head of the Crop-eared one. Antoine
watched the proceedings with much interest.

Black Bull Pup sat up and was about to remonstrate angrily
with his comrade for having roused him so unceremoniously,
when the latter also raised himself full of the same
matter.

Their eyes fairly started from their heads and they were
nearly paralysed with horror when they beheld a huge bear
sitting within a few feet of them. It must be a very ogre
of a bear when it could sit there so calmly waiting for
them to awake before beginning operations. Pepin, unseen
on the rock above them, fairly doubled himself up with
delight. But they were both Indians who had borne
themselves with credit in former encounters with bears,
so, snatching up their rifles, they both fired at Antoine
at the same moment with a touching and supreme disregard
to the other's proximity. Antoine seemed interested.
There were two flashes in the pan, and two hearts sank
simultaneously. They searched for their knives in vain.
Antoine appeared amused and looked encouragement. It was
a very nightmare to the two warriors. Then, from the rock
over their heads, they heard a deep bass voice of such
volume that it sounded like half-a-dozen ordinary voices
rolled into one.

"_Canaille!_" it cried, "cut-throats! villains!
block-heads! pudding-heads! _mais_ you are nice men to
sleep at your posts; truly, that is so! Shall I make this
bear for to