"I'll be doin' th' same, but I'll be here sure on a Tuesday, an' maybe Monday," answered Bob.

So it was arranged that they should have a holiday, and all be together again. It gave Bob a thrill of pleasure when he thought of meeting d.i.c.k and Ed and proudly exhibiting his fur to have them examine and criticise the skins and compliment him. It would make a break in the monotonous life.

The day after Bob left the river tilt on his return round, the great dream with which he had started out from Wolf Bight became a reality.

He caught a silver fox. It was almost evening when he turned into a marsh where the trap was set. He had caught nothing in it before, and he was thinking seriously of taking it up and placing it farther along the trail. But now in the half dusk, as he approached, something moved. "Sure 'tis a cross," said he. When he came closer and saw that it was really a silver he could not for a moment believe his good fortune. It was too good to be true. When he had killed it and taken it out of the trap he hurried to the tilt hugging it closely to his breast as though afraid it would get away.

In the tilt he lighted a candle and examined it. It was a beauty! It was worth a lot of money! He patted it and turned it over. Then--there was no one to see him and question his manhood or jibe at his weakness--he cried--cried for pure joy. "Tis th' savin' o' Emily an'

makin' she well--an' makin' she well!" He had prayed that he would get a silver, but his faith had been weak and he had never really believed he should. Now he had it and his cup of joy was full. "Sure th' Lard be good," he repeated to himself.

It was starlight two evenings later when he neared his last tilt.

Clear and beautiful and intensely cold was the silent white wilderness and Bob's heart was as clear and light as the frosty air. When the black spot that marked the roof of the almost hidden shack met his view he stopped. A thin curl of smoke was rising from the stovepipe.

Some one was in the tilt! He hesitated for only a moment, then hurried forward and pushed the door open. There, smoking his pipe sat Micmac John.

VIII

MICMAC JOHN'S REVENGE

"Evenin', Bob," said Micmac.

"Evenin', John. An' where'd you be comin' from now?"

"Been huntin' t' th' suth'ard. Thought I'd drop in an' see ye."

"Glad t' see ye, John."

After an awkward pause Bob asked:

"What un do wi' th' stove, John?"

"What stove?"

"From th' river tilt. Ye took un, didn't ye?"

"No, I didn't take no stove. I weren't in th' river tilt, an' don't know what yer talkin' about," lied the half-breed.

"Some one took un an' we was layin' it t' you. Now I wonders who 'twere."

"Well, _I_ wouldn't take it. Ye ought t' known _I_ wouldn't do a thing like that," insisted Micmac, with an air of injured innocence. "Maybe th' Mingen Injuns took it. There's been some around an' they says they'll take anything they find, an' fur too, if they find any in th'

tilts. These are their huntin' grounds an' outsiders has no right on 'em. They gave me right t' hunt down t' th' suth'ard."

"Who may th' Mingen Injuns be, now?"

"Mountaineers as belong Mingen way up south, an' hunts between this an' th' Straits."

"I were thinkin' 'twere th' Nascaupees took th' stove if you didn't take un."

"Th' Nascaupees are back here a bit t' th' west'ard. I saw some of 'em one day when I was cruisin' that way an' I made tracks back fer I didn't want t' die so quick. They'll kill anybody they see in here, an' burn th' tilts if they happen over this way an' see 'em. Ye have t' be on th' watch fer 'em all th' time."

"I'll be watchin' out fer un an' keep clear if I sees their footin',"

said Bob as he went out to bring in his things.

What Micmac said about the Nascaupees disturbed him not a little. Bob was brave, but every man, no matter how brave he may be, fears an unseen danger when he believes that danger is real and is apt to come upon him unexpectedly and at a time when no opportunity will be offered for defense. It was evident that these Indians were close at hand, and that he was in daily and imminent danger of being captured, which meant, he was sure, being killed. But he was here for a purpose--to catch all the fur he could--and he must not lose his courage now, before that purpose was accomplished. He must remain on his trail until the hunting season closed. He must be constantly upon his guard, he thought, and perhaps after all would not be discovered.

No, he would _not_ let himself be afraid.

When he returned to the tilt Micmac John asked:

"Gettin' much fur?"

"Not so bad," he replied. "I has one silver, an' a fine un, too."

The half-breed showed marked interest at once.

"Let's see him. Got him here?"

"No, I left un in th' third tilt. That's where I caught un."

"Where's yer other fur?"

"I took un all down t' th' river tilt There's a cross among un an'

twenty-eight martens."

"Um-m."

Micmac John knew well enough the fur had been taken to some other tilt, for when he arrived here early in the afternoon his first care was to look for it, but not a skin had he found, and he was disappointed, for it was the purpose of his visit. Bob, absolutely honest and guileless himself, in spite of d.i.c.k's constant a.s.sertion that Micmac was a thief and worse, was easily deceived by the half-breed's bland manner. Unfortunately he had not learned that every one else was not as honest and straightforward as himself. Micmac's attempt upon his life he had ascribed to a sudden burst of anger, and it was forgiven and forgotten. The selfish enmity, the blackness of heart, the sinister nature that will never overlook and will go to any length to avenge a real or fancied wrong--the characteristics of a half-breed Indian--were wholly beyond his comprehension. He had never dissembled himself, and he did not know that the smiling face and smooth tongue are often screens of deception.

"We'll be havin' supper now," suggested Bob, lifting the boiling kettle off the stove and throwing in some tea. "I'm fair starved."

After they had eaten Micmac filled his pipe and lounged back, smoking in silence for some time, apparently deep in thought. Finally he asked, "When ye goin' back t' th' river, Bob?"

"I'm not thinkin t' start back till Wednesday an' maybe Thursday, an'

reach un Monday or Tuesday after. Bill won't be gettin' there till Tuesday, an' d.i.c.k an' Ed expects t' be there then t' spend Christmas an' hunt deer."

"Hunt deer?"

"They're needin' fresh meat, an' deer footin's good in th' meshes."

"The's fine signs to th' nuth'ard from th' second lake in, 'bout twenty mile from here. You could get some there. If ye ain't goin'

back till Wednesday why don't ye try 'em? Ye'd get as many as ye wanted," volunteered Micmac.

"Where now be that?"

"Why just 'cross th' first mesh up here, an' through th' bush straight over ye'll come to a lake. Cross that t' where a dead tree hangs out over th' ice. Cut in there an' ye'll see my footin'; foller it over t'

th' next lake, then turn right t' th' nuth'ard. The's some meshes in there where th' deer's feedin'. I seen fifteen or twenty, but I didn't want 'em so I let 'em be."