t and an arrow flew from the weapons of
Paul and Trench; but they flew wide of the mark, and there is no saying
what the result might have been had not Hendrick bent his short but
powerful bow, and sent an arrow to the feather into the creature's
breast.

The modern bullet is no doubt more deadly than the ancient arrow,
nevertheless the latter had some advantages over the former. One of
these was that, as it transfixed several muscles, it tended to hamper
the movements of the victim shot. It also drew attention in some degree
from the assailant. Thus, on the present occasion the bear, with a
savage growl, seized the head of the arrow which projected from the
wound and wrenched it off. This, although little more than a momentary
act, gave the hunter time to fit and discharge a second arrow, which
entered the animal's throat, causing it to fall writhing on the ground,
while Oliver, who had gone almost mad with excitement, grasped his axe,
bounded forward, and brought it down on bruin's skull.

Well was it for the reckless boy that Hendrick's arrows had done their
work, for, although his young arm was stout and the axe sharp, little
impression was made on the hard-headed creature by the blow. Hendrick's
knife, however, completed the work and despatched the bear. Then they
all sat down to rest while the hunter set to work to skin the animal.

CHAPTER TEN.

OLLY'S FIRST SALMON AND HENDRICK'S HOME.

From this time forward the opportunities for hunting and fishing became
so numerous that poor Oliver was kept in a constantly bubbling-over
condition of excitement, and his father had to restrain him a good deal
in order to prevent the larder from being greatly overstocked.

One afternoon they came to a river which their guide told them was one
of the largest in the country.

"It flows out of the lake, on one of the islands of which I have built
my home."

"May I ask," said Paul, with some hesitation, "if your wife came with
you from the Shetland Isles?"

A profoundly sad expression flitted across the hunter's countenance.

"No," he replied. "Trueheart, as she is named in the Micmac tongue, is
a native of this island--at least her mother was; but her father, I have
been told, was a white man--a wanderer like myself--who came in an open
boat from no one knows where, and cast his lot among the Indians, one of
whom he married. Both parents are dead. I never saw them; but my wife,
I think, must resemble her wh