Valier; going to see her, eh?" asked the other boatman, with a slight
display of curiosity.

"Yes, I am going to visit my aunt Dodier; why should I not? She
has crocks of gold buried in the house, I can tell you that, Pierre
Ceinture!"

"Going to get some from La Corriveau, eh? crocks of gold, eh?" said Paul
La Crosse.

"La Corriveau has medicines, too! get some, eh?" asked Pierre Ceinture.

"I am going neither for gold nor medicines, but to see my aunt, if it
concerns you to know, Pierre Ceinture! which it does not!"

"Mademoiselle des Meloises pay her to go, eh? not going back ever, eh?"
asked the other Indian.

"Mind your own affairs, Paul La Crosse, and I will mind mine!
Mademoiselle des Meloises paid you to bring me to St. Valier, not to ask
me impertinences. That is enough for you! Here is your fare; now you
can return to the Sault au Matelot, and drink yourselves blind with the
money!"

"Very good, that!" replied the Indian. "I like to drink myself blind,
will do it to-night! Like to see me, eh? Better that than go see La
Corriveau! The habitans say she talks with the Devil, and makes the
sickness settle like a fog upon the wigwams of the red men. They say she
can make palefaces die by looking at them! But Indians are too hard
to kill with a look! Fire-water and gun and tomahawk, and fever in the
wigwams, only make the Indians die."

"Good that something can make you die, for your ill manners! look at my
stocking!" replied Fanchon, with warmth. "If I tell La Corriveau what
you say of her there will be trouble in your wigwam, Pierre Ceinture!"

"Do not do that, Ania!" replied the Indian, crossing himself earnestly;
"do not tell La Corriveau, or she will make an image of wax and call it
Pierre Ceinture, and she will melt it away before a slow fire, and as it
melts my flesh and bones will melt away, too! Do not tell her, Fanchon
Dodier!" The Indian had picked up this piece of superstition from the
white habitans, and, like them, thoroughly believed in the supernatural
powers of La Corriveau.

"Well, leave me! get back to the city, and tell Mademoiselle I arrived
safe at St. Valier," replied Fanchon, turning to leave them.

The Indians were somewhat taken down by the airs of Fanchon, and they
stood in awe of the far-reaching power of her aunt, from the spell
of whose witchcraft they firmly believed no hiding-place, even in the
deepest woods, could protect them. Merely nodding a farewell to Fanchon,
the