think I will kill
myself. If Mamselle Rosalin cry out loud once more, I plunge in the
lake--and then what become of maman and the children?

She is quieter; and I sit down and cannot smoke, and the dogs pity me.
Old Sauvage lay his nose on my knee. I do not say a word to him, but I
pat him, and we talk with our eyes, and the bright camp-fire shows each
what the other is say.

"Old Sauvage," I tell him, "I am not good man like the priest. I have
been out with the boats, and in Indian camps, and I not had in my life a
chance to marry, because there are maman and the children. But you know,
old Sauvage, how I have feel about Mamselle Rosalin, it is three years."

Old Sauvage hit his tail on the ground and answer he know.

"I have love her like a dog that not dare to lick her hand. And now she
hate me because I am shut on Round Island with her while the ice goes
out. I not good man, but it pretty tough to stand that." Old Sauvage
hit his tail on the ground and say, "That so." I hear the water on the
gravel like it sound when we find a place to drink; then it is plenty
company, but now it is lonesome. The water say to people on Mackinac,
"Rosalin and Ignace Pelott, they are on Round Island." What make you
proud, maybe, when you turn it and look at it the other way, make you
sick. But I cannot walk the broken ice, and if I could, she would be lef
alone with the dogs. I think I will build another camp.

But soon there is a shaking in the bushes, and Sauvage and his
bledgemates bristle and stand up and show their teeth. Out comes
Mamselle Eosalin with a scream to the other side of the fire.

I have nothing except my knife, and I take a chunk of burning wood and
go into her house. Maybe I see some green eyes. I have handle vild-cat
skin too much not to know that smell in the dark.

I take all the branches from Rosalin's house and pile them by the fire,
and spread the fur robe on them. And I pull out red coals and put more
logs on before I sit down away off between her and the spot where she
hear that noise. If the graveyard was over us, I would expect to see
that skeleton once more.

"What was it?" she whisper.

I tell her maybe a stray wolf.

"Wolves not eat people, mamselle, unless they hunt in a pack; and they
run from fire. You know what M'sieu' Cable tell about wolves that chase
him on the ice when he skate to Cheboygan? He come to great wide crack
in ice, he so scare he jump it and skate right on! Then he look b