"To settle here!—why, what on earth do you mean, young woman? Settle here!—not you, surely."

      "Yes, indeed, we are. Don't you know Martin Super, the trapper? He is with us, and now at work in the woods getting ready for raising the house, as you call it.—Do you know, Mary," said Emma in a low tone to her sister, "I'm almost afraid of that man, although I do speak so boldly."

      "Martin Super—yes, I know him," replied the hunter, who without any more ceremony threw his gun into the hollow of his arm, turned round, and walked away in the direction of his own hut.

      "Well, Mary," observed Emma, after a pause of a few seconds, during which they watched the receding form of the hunter, "the old gentleman is not over-polite. Suppose we go back and narrate our first adventure?"

      "Let us walk up to where Alfred and Martin Super are at work, and tell them," replied Mary.

      They soon gained the spot where the men were felling the trees, and made known to Alfred and Martin what had taken place.

      "He is angered, miss," observed Martin; "I guessed as much; well, if he don't like it he must squat elsewhere."

      "How do you mean squat elsewhere?"

      "I mean, miss, that if he don't like company so near him he must shift and build his wigwam further off."

      "But, why should he not like company? I should have imagined that it would be agreeable rather than otherwise," replied Mary Percival.

      "You may think so, miss; but Malachi Bone thinks otherwise; and it's natural; a man who has lived all his life in the woods, all alone, his eye never resting, his ear ever watching; catching at every sound, even to the breaking of a twig or the falling of a leaf; sleeping with his finger on his trigger and one eye half open, gets used to no company but his own, and can't abide it. I recollect the time that I could not. Why, miss, when a man hasn't spoken a word perhaps for months, talking is a fatigue, and, when he hasn't heard a word spoken for months, listening is as bad. It's all custom, miss, and Malachi, as I guessed, don't like it, and so he's rily and angered. I will go see him after the work is over."

      "But he has a wife, Martin, has he not?"

      "Yes; but she's an Indian wife, Master Alfred, and Indian wives don't speak unless they're spoken to."

      "What a recommendation," said Alfred, laughing; "I really think I shall look after an Indian wife, Emma."

      "I think you had better," replied Emma. "You'd be certain of a quiet house,—when you were out of it,—and when at home, you would have all the talk to yourself, which is just what you like. Come, Mary, let us leave him to dream of his squaw."

      The men selected by the commandant of the fort were well used to handle the ax; before dusk, many trees had been felled, and were ready for sawing into lengths. The tents had all been pitched: those for the Campbells on the knoll we have spoken of; Captain Sinclair's and that for the soldiers about a hundred yards distant; the fires were lighted, and as the dinner had been cold, a hot supper was prepared by Martin and Mrs. Campbell, assisted by the girls and the younger boys. After supper they all retired to an early bed; Captain Sinclair having put a man as sentry, and the dogs having been tied at different places, that they might give the alarm if there was any danger; which, however, was not anticipated, as the Indians had for some time been very quiet in the neighborhood of Fort Frontignac.

      CHAPTER X

      The next morning, when they assembled at breakfast, after Mr. Campbell had read the prayers, Mary Percival said, "Did you hear that strange and loud noise last night? I was very much startled with it; but, as nobody said a word, I held my tongue."

      "Nobody said a word, because every body was fast asleep, I presume," said Alfred; "I heard nothing."

      "It was like the sound of cart-wheels at a distance, with whistling and hissing," continued Mary.

      "I think I can explain it to you, as I was up during the night, Miss Percival," said Captain Sinclair. "It is a noise you must expect every night during the summer season; but one to which you will soon be accustomed."

      "Why, what was it?"

      "Frogs,—nothing more; except, indeed, the hissing, which, I believe, is made by the lizards. They will serenade you every night. I only hope you will not be disturbed by any thing more dangerous."

      "Is it possible that such small creatures can make such a din?"

      "Yes; when thousands join in the concert; I may say millions."

      "Well, I thank you for the explanation, Captain Sinclair, as it has been some relief to my mind."

      After breakfast, Martin (we shall for the future leave out his surname) informed Mr. Campbell that he had seen Malachi Bone, the hunter, who had expressed great dissatisfaction at their arrival, and his determination to quit the place if they remained.

      "Surely, he hardly expects us to quit the place to please him?"

      "No," replied Martin; "but if he were cankered in disposition, which I will say Malachi is not, he might make it very unpleasant for you to remain, by bringing the Indians about you."

      "Surely, he would not do that?" said Mrs. Campbell.

      "No, I don't think he would," replied Martin; "because, you see, it's just as easy for him to go further off."

      "But why should we drive him away from his property any more than we leave our own?" observed Mrs. Campbell.

      "He