perspiration, and I wanted to fairly mop my face--of course, when they
weren't looking.

Together they showed me over the establishment: the spare bedroom, the
trading shop, the stable, the heifer, the ducks and geese, and even the
pig--though it puzzled me why they singled out the very one they
intended giving Son-in-law. The silent though beautiful Athabasca
followed a few feet behind as we went the rounds, and inspected the
wealth that was to be bestowed upon her lover. I was growing more
inquisitive than ever as to who Son-in-law might be. Indeed, I felt
like asking, but was really too shy, and besides, when I thought it
over, I concluded it was none of my business.

When the time came for me to return to the Hudson's Bay Post, I shook
hands with them all--Athabasca had nice hands and a good grip, too.
Her parents gave me a pressing invitation to visit them again for a few
days at New Year's, when everyone in the country would be going to the
great winter festival that was always held at Fort Consolation. As I
paddled away I mused:

"By George, Son-in-law is certainly a lucky dog, for Athabasca's a
peach . . . but I don't see how in thunder her lover ever gets a chance
to call."


LEAVING FORT CONSOLATION

I was up early next morning and as I wished to see how Oo-koo-hoo and
his party would pack up and board their canoes, I walked round the bay
to the Indian village. After a hasty breakfast, the women pulled down