“Did you ever think I would?  Eh?  What?” asked the manikin cynically, with his head on one side.

“I don’t suppose I ever thought about the matter in that way,” said Douglas, “but if I’d done so, I’m bound to say that I should have had some measure of faith in you, Pepin Quesnelle.  You have known me for many years now, and you know I never say what I do not mean.”

“So!... that is so. Bien!” remarked Pepin obviously pleased.  “But the question we have had to settle is this.  If we let your daughter go now, how is Bastien here to account for his prisoner in the morning?  He knows that one day he will have to stand on the little trap-door in the scaffold floor at Regina, and that he will twirl round and round so—­like to that so”—­picking up a hobble chain and spinning it round with his hand—­“while his eyes will stick out of his head like the eyes of a flat-fish; but at the same time he does not want to be shot by order of Riel or Gabriel Dumont to-morrow for losing a prisoner.”

“Yees, they will shoot—­shoot me mooch dead!” observed Bastien feelingly.

“So we have think,” continued the dwarf, “that he should disappear also; that he go with you.  I will tell them to-morrow that the girl here she was sit by the fire and she go up the chimney like as smoke or a speerit, so, and that Bastien he follow, and when I have go out I see them both going up to the sky.  They will believe, and Bastien perhaps, if he keep away with you, or go hide somewhere else, he may live yet to get drown, or get shot, or be keel by a bear, and not die by the rope.  You follow?”

“Where ees ze sleighs?” asked the breed, taking time by the forelock.

They told him and he rose with alacrity.

“Zen come on quick, right now,” he said.

Douglas was pressing some gold into the old dame’s hand, but Pepin saw it.

“Ah, non!” he said.  “There are bad Engleesh and there are good Engleesh, and there are bad French, but there are also good French.  The girl is a good girl, but if Pepin cannot marry her he will at least not take her gold.”

The old dame as usual, seconded him.

“That is right, Pepin,” she said, “I cannot take the monies.  Go, my child; you cannot help that my son will not have you for a wife.  Some day, perhaps, you may find a hoosband who will console you.  Adieu!”

Dorothy had again put on her fur coat, and, bidding the good old lady an affectionate farewell, and also thanking Pepin, they prepared to set out again for the deserted homestead in the bluffs.

“You will send the sergeant on at once if he comes here, won’t you, Pepin?” said Douglas to the dwarf.  “Perhaps it is as well to take his advice and get back as quickly as possible.”

“Come now,” remarked Pepin, “you must go.  If you wait you may be caught Bastien will lead you safely there.  Adieu!”

He opened the door and looked out Antoine moved to the door with a moccasin in his mouth.  Dorothy said good-bye to Katie, who would have gone with her, only Pepin would not allow it.  As Dorothy passed the latter he was evidently apprehensive lest she might be anxious to bid him a demonstrative farewell, for he merely bowed with exaggerated dignity and would not meet her eyes.