n heavy, and gone sorter crosswise. Yis, the yarb
be good fur a woman when things go crosswise, and the box'll be a
great help to her many and many a night, beyend doubt. The Lord
sartinly had women in mind when He made the yarb, and a kindly feelin'
fur their infarmities, and, I dare say, they be grateful accordin' to
their knowledge."

A large cake of maple sugar followed the tea into the basket, and a
small chest of honey accompanied it.

"That's honest sweetenin'," remarked the Trapper with decided
emphasis; "and that is more'n ye can say of the sugar of the
settlements, leastwise ef a man can jedge by the stuff they peddle at
the clearin'. The bees be no cheats; and a man who taps his own trees,
and biles the runnin' into sugar under his own eye, knows what kind of
sweetenin' he's gittin'. The woman won't find any sand in her teeth
when she takes a bite from that loaf, or stirs a leetle of the honey
in the cup she's steepin'."

Some salt and pepper were next added to the packages already in the
basket. A sack of flour and another of Indian meal followed. A
generous round of pork, and a bag of jerked venison, that would
balance a twenty-pound weight, at least, went into the pack. On these,
several large-sized salmon trout, that had been smoked by the
Trapper's best skill, were laid. These offerings evidently exhausted
the old man's resources, for, after looking round a while, and
searching the cupboard from bottom to top, he returned to the basket,
and contemplated it with satisfaction, indeed, yet with a face
slightly shaded with disappointment.

"The vict'als be all right," he said, "fur there be enough to last 'em
a month, and they needn't scrimp themselves either. But eatin' isn't
all, and the leetle uns was nigh on to naked the last time I seed 'em;
and the woman's dress, in spite of the patchin', looked as ef it would
desart her, ef she didn't keep a close eye on't. Lord! Lord! what
shall I do? fur there's room enough in the basket, and the woman and
the leetle uns need garments; that is, it's more'n likely they do, and
I haven't a garment in the cabin to take 'em."

"Hillo! Hillo! John Norton! John Norton! Hillo!" The voice came sharp
and clear, cutting keenly through the frosty air and the cabin walls.
"John Norton!"

"Wild Bill!" exclaimed the Trapper. "I sartinly hope the vagabond
hasn't been a-drinkin'. His voice sounds as ef he was sober; but the
chances be ag'in the signs, fur, ef he isn't drunk