did. Lying awake I was one morning, when I hears Plunket give a low

growl. I knew something was up, so I kept the dogs still and waited to see what the next move would be. Half-an-hour and more passed, then a great brown bare arm stole in through the hole in the door-top; in the hand was a knife, which was moved across the leathern hinges. Gentlemen, Plunket had a mouthful of that arm ere ever you'd say `axe'! `Hold on, Plunket!' I cried, and the good dog didn't need two biddings, I can tell you; he stuck to his prisoner like grim Death to a dead nigger, until, with a bar and a rope, I had made sure the arm couldn't be withdrawn. Well, you should have heard the yell that blueskin gave. But a louder yell than his rang all around the hut next minute, and I knew then, gentlemen, it was to be war to the knife-hilt. My windows are small, but the walls are strong, and I was safe enough for a bit. I fired through each shutter as a kind of warning to 'em; then I crept upstairs to the little garret and prepared to give them pepper! Fifteen I could count in all, armed with tomahawks and spears; fifteen, and Plunket's prisoner. Sixteen in all, and only three of us! No use their trying to get in in an ordinary way, they soon gave up that game, and drew off and held a council. I didn't want to begin the game of killing, gentlemen, or now I could have had three with one bullet. The conclusion they came to was to burn this old trapper out. But you see, gentlemen, this old trapper didn't mean to be burnt out if he could help it. Shame on the wretches! they didn't mind even burning the poor Injun who was fast to the door. Well, when they began to make the faggots, I just let them have it as hot as ever I could. It was my six-shooting rifle, and it didn't seem a moment ere three had bit the dust, and a fourth, wounded, jumped over the ravine yonder. Well, after this it 'peared to me the fight just began in real earnest. They tried to scale the hut, and they tried to scale the trees. From both positions they came down faster than they went up. They threw their hatchets and they threw their spears, but, worse than all, they fired and threw their faggots. In that case, thinks I, it's time I brought out my reserves, so, giving them one other rattling volley, I got down as quick as feet would take me. `Come, good dogs!' I cried; `now to give them fits!' Gentlemen, I was about as "mad" [a Yankeeism signifying angry] as ever I was in my life, and the dogs were madder, and the way I laid around me with my club when I got out must have been fine to see; but the way that mastiff went for them blueskins was finer. The field was all our own in five minutes; the garrison was unscathed, the enemy had six killed, and it must have taken the others weeks to mend their dog-holes."

"What about Plunket's prisoner?" asked Rory.

"Plunket's prisoner," said Seth, "came in very handy. It was spring, you see, and there were potatoes to plant and maize and onions to sow, and what not I tied the creature to Plunket for safety. He had plenty of rope, and when he saw I didn't mean to kill him he started and worked away like a New Hollander. When everything was in the ground--and that took us three weeks--I started him off with a message to Quimo, his chief, and I can tell you, gentlemen, no Yack Injun has ever drawn knife on old Seth since."

"But," said Rory, "weren't you going to tell us about the Norwegian walrus-hunters?"

"Oh!" said Seth, "it was like this. I heard of the shipwreck, and I went right away over with Plunket to see if I could be of any service. And it was well for those hunters I did. I found fires alight to torture them, and irons heating to make them skip and jump. The blueskin chief was in high glee; he was expecting rare fun, he told me, `Well, Quimo,' says I to him, `you always was about the peskiest old idgit ever I came across.' `How now,' says he, `great and mighty hunter?' `You're an almighty squaw,' says I; `why don't you wear a "neenak" and carry an "awwee"? Come now, Quimo, let me be master of ceremonies, I'll show you better fun than you could make.' `My white brother,' said Quimo, `is very wise.' `And you're an old fool,' says I. This wasn't flattery, gentlemen, I own, but old Seth knows the Indian character well."

[Neenak: the short apron of sealskin the women of some tribes of Yack Indians wear.]

[Awwee: baby or young one, applied to animals as well as human beings.]

"I goes straight to where the Norwegians were lying bound, and cuts their cords. `Now,' says I to them, `you've got to dance and sing and do all you can to please these Injuns; and, mind, you're doing it for dear life!' Gentlemen, I laugh to myself sometimes even yet when I think of the capers them four poor chaps cut. Old Quimo roared again, and laughed till the tears rolled down his dirty cheeks; then he vowed by the sun (the god of the Yack), that the hatchet should be buried for ever between him and the white man.

"But these Norwegians stopped and settled down among the tribe, and they have taught them caribou sleighing and hunting the walrus with iron-shod spears, instead of the old caribou-horn toasting-forks they used to use. But come, gentlemen, old Seth would keep you talking here all day. Let us get up and be doing, for I reckon you came ashore for a bit of a shoot."

"That we did!" said McBain, "and if you'll be our guide, you shall have as much tobacco as will last you for a year."

The tears seemed to stand in Seth's eyes with delight at the prospect. "I guess," he said, "this old trapper knows where the best caribou are to be had, and so does Plunket too."

With Seth, to make up his mind was to act, and in five minutes he had rehabilitated himself in his skins, slung on his shot-belt, and shouldered his rifle. Rory was now bemoaning his fate in not having brought _his_ rifle instead of a fowling-piece, but Seth soon got him over that difficulty. He strode into the wigwam, and presently reappeared with a very presentable weapon indeed, and soon after, in true Indian file, they were threading their way through the forest, the mastiff first and Oscar second, seeming determined to follow the lead and do whatever the other dog did. The road--or rather, I should say, their way, for path there was none--led upwards and inland, and after a walk of fully an hour they came out into a broad open plain. This they crossed, and then wound round some hills--high enough to have been called mountains in England--when suddenly, on rounding a spur of one of these, a scene was opened out before them that my pen is powerless to describe. They stood at the mouth of a beautiful glen, or ravine, the whole bottom of which was a sheet of water that reflected the sky's blue and the cloudlets that floated like foam flakes above, while the lofty and rugged cliffs that surrounded the lake were green-fringed with trees, the silvery birch and the white-flowered mountain ash showing charmingly out against the more sombre hues of pine and firs; and above all were the everlasting hills, their jagged peaks white-tipped with snow, on which the sun shone with silver radiance. Patches of colour here and there relieved the green of the trees, for yonder was a bold bluff, covered with scarlet lichens, and closer to the water were patches of crimson and white foxglove. Cascades, too, formed by the melting snows, could be descried here and there, and the noise they made as they joined the lake fell upon the ear like the hum that arises from a distant city.

They stood entranced, and Rory was thinking he would rather be armed with sketch-book than rifle, when--

"Hist!" cried Seth.

They followed his eye. On a rock right above them stood boldly out against the sky a tall stag; you might have counted every branch in his antlers.

"Don't fire!" cried Seth.

It was too late. Bang went Rory's rifle, and the echoes reverberated from rock to rock, fainter and more faint, till they were lost in the distance. Down rolled the stag.

"I guess that has spoiled our day's sport," said Seth, quietly. "Listen."

What is it they hear? The whole earth seems to tremble, and there is a sound comes from the woods like that of far-off thunder?

"They're off," said Seth; "that was a general stampede. In half-an-hour more we'd have had some fine skirmishing. They had been down to drink and were resting afterwards."

Rory had to pay for his experience anyhow in a three hours' manoeuvring march. They did outflank the deer at last, but they were somewhat wild, and the sport was only fair.

It was nightfall ere they reached Seth's wigwam once more, and they were thoroughly tired, and glad to rest while Seth cooked the supper in a way that only Seth could.

That night they spent in the wigwam; next day they went on board, and Seth went with them, their object being to organise a little expedition against the caribou. McBain meant to make a week's stay here to replenish his larder fore and aft, ere they tripped anchor and made sail for wilder regions to the westward and north.

You may be sure Rory did not forget his sketch-book, nor a light canoe he had which one man could carry on his back.

They had a week of such glorious sport, both in fishing and shooting, that when the last evening came round both Ralph and Rory averred that they would like to stay among these wooded hills for ever.

"I guess," said Seth, "you'd get tired of it."

"_Do_ you ever tire of it?" asked McBain, and he asked the question with a purpose.

"There are times," said Seth, looking into the log fire around which they sat, and giving a kind of sigh, "when I think that a little change would do myself and Plunket a power of good."

"You shall have it," cried McBain, jumping up and catching the old man by the hand, "you and Plunket too. Come with us in the _Snowbird_, we'll make you as comfortable and happy as the day is long."

"If I thought I'd be of any use--" began Seth.

"Of use, man," cried McBain; "you're the handiest fellow ever I met in my life."

"And that you'd bring me home again."

"If we don't we'll never return more ourselves," said McBain.

"Then, gentlemen," said the trapper, "I'll accept your offer. There!"