replied the little Frenchman cheerfully.

After a time the tables were cleared and pushed back to the wall, and
pipes were produced. In all attitudes suggestive of comfort the men
disposed themselves in a wide circle about the fire, which now roared
and crackled up the great wooden chimney hanging from the roof. The
lumberman's hour of bliss had arrived. Even old man Nelson looked a
shade less melancholy than usual as he sat alone, well away from the
fire, smoking steadily and silently. When the second pipes were well
a-going, one of the men took down a violin from the wall and handed
it to Lachlan Campbell. There were two brothers Campbell just out from
Argyll, typical Highlanders: Lachlan, dark, silent, melancholy, with the
face of a mystic, and Angus, red-haired, quick, impulsive, and devoted
to his brother, a devotion he thought proper to cover under biting,
sarcastic speech.

Lachlan, after much protestation, interspersed with gibes from his
brother, took the violin, and, in response to the call from all sides,
struck up 'Lord Macdonald's Reel.' In a moment the floor was filled with
dancers, whooping and cracking their fingers in the wildest manner. Then
Baptiste did the 'Red River Jig,' a most intricate and difficult series
of steps, the men keeping time to the music with hands and feet.

When the jig was finished, Sandy called for 'Lochaber No More'; but
Campbell said, 'No, no! I cannot play that to-night. Mr. Craig will
play.'

Craig took the violin, and at the first note I knew he was no ordinary
player. I did not recognise the music, but it was soft and thrilling,
and got in by the heart, till every one was thinking his tenderest and