at his comrade’s bad taste, Miki sulked off alone to hunt.  It was some time after that before Neewa dared to thrust his head and shoulders through the opening.  The smell of the fish made his little eyes gleam.  Cautiously he stepped inside the queer looking thing of logs.  Nothing happened.  He saw the fish, all he could eat, just on the other side of a sapling against which he must lean to reach them.  He went deliberately to the sapling, leaned over, and then!—­

“Crash!”

He whirled about as if shot.  There was no longer an opening where he had entered.  The sapling “trigger” had released an over-head door, and Neewa was a prisoner.  He was not excited, but accepted the situation quite coolly, probably having no doubt in his mind that somewhere there was an aperture between the logs large enough for him to squeeze through.  After a few inquisitive sniffs he proceeded to devour the fish.  He was absorbed in his odoriferous feast when out of a clump of dwarf balsams a few yards away appeared an Indian.  He quickly took in the situation, turned, and disappeared.

Half an hour later this Indian ran into a clearing in which were the recently constructed buildings of a new Post.  He made for the Company store.  In the fur-carpeted “office” of this store a man was bending fondly over a woman.  The Indian saw them as he entered, and chuckled.  “Sakehewawin” ("the love couple"); that was what they had already come to call them at Post Lac Bain—­this man and woman who had given them a great feast when the missioner had married them not so very long ago.  The man and the woman stood up when the Indian entered, and the woman smiled at him.  She was beautiful.  Her eyes were glowing, and there was the flush of a flower in her cheeks.  The Indian felt the worship of her warm in his heart.

“Oo-ee, we have caught the bear,” he said.  “But it is napao (a he-bear).  There is no cub, Iskwao Nanette!”

The white man chuckled.

“Aren’t we having the darndest luck getting you a cub for a house-pet, Nanette?” he asked.  “I’d have sworn this mother and her cub would have been easily caught.  A he-bear!  We’ll have to let him loose, Mootag.  His pelt is good for nothing.  Do you want to go with us and see the fun, Nanette?”

She nodded, her little laugh filled with the joy of love and life.

“Oui.  It will be such fun—­to see him go!”

Challoner led the way, with an axe in his hand; and with him came Nanette, her hand in his.  Mootag followed with his rifle, prepared for an emergency.  From the thick screen of balsams Challoner peered forth, then made a hole through which Nanette might look at the cage and its prisoner.  For a moment or two she held her breath as she watched Neewa pacing back and forth, very much excited now.  Then she gave a little cry, and Challoner felt her fingers pinch his own sharply.  Before he knew what she was about to do she had thrust herself through the screen of balsams.