“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 Dick’s constant assertion 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