The pedlar drew a long breath, returned to his pack, and sat down.

As he did so, the old Indian woman came in, and the boy ran to her,
and kissed her hand, and placed it on his head. This was Indian
fashion.

"Oh, _ma mere_!" he cried, "I've seen Redbud, and had such a fine
time, and I'm so happy! I'm hungry, too; and so is this honest fellow
with the pack. There go the steaks!"

And Verty threw them on the gridiron, and burst out laughing.

In a quarter of an hour they were placed on the rude table, and the
three persons sat down--Verty laughing, the old woman smiling at him,
the pedlar sullen and omnivorous.

After devouring everything on the table, the worthy took his departure
with his pack upon his shoulders.

"I don't like that man, but let him go," said Verty. "Now, _ma mere_,
I'm going out to hunt a bit for you."

The old woman gazed fondly on him, and this was all Verty needed. He
rose, called the dogs, and loaded his gun.

"Good-bye, _ma mere_" he said, going out; "don't let any more of these
pedlar people come here. I feel as if that one who has just gone away,
had done me some harm. Come, Longears! come, Wolf!"