party; and yet it was plain that Accomba's story had produced a great
sensation among her auditors.

"_In sport!_" exclaimed Accomba, now fairly roused to excitement by the
apparent incredulity of her listeners; "_In sport_, say you? No, no,
Michel knows well what he _says_, though sometimes I think he is hardly
responsible for his actions; but look you, boys, my husband vowed to
shoot me once, and I stayed his arm and fell on my knees and tried to
rouse him to pity; but I will do so no more, and if he threatens me
again I will let him accomplish his fell purpose, and not a cry or sound
shall ever escape my lips. But you, Tetsi," continued the poor woman,
who was now fairly sobbing, "you are his brother, you might speak to him
and try to bring him to reason; and if I die, you must take care of my
poor children,--promise me that, Tetsi and Antoine, they are your own
flesh and blood, do not let them starve. 'Niotsi Cho,' the Great Spirit
will give it you back again."

There was a great silence among the Indians when Accomba had
finished speaking. An Indian has great discernment, and not only can
soon discover where the pathos of a story lies, but he will read as
by intuition how much of it is true or false. Moreover, Michel's
character was well known among them all, and his eccentricities had
often excited their wonder and sometimes their censure. The poor
woman's story appealed to each one of them: most of all did it appeal
to the heart of Sarcelle her brother, who was another occupant of the
room that evening.

"It is shocking, it is monstrous." exclaimed he at full length. "My
sister, you shall come with me. I will work for you, I will hunt for
you and your children. Michel shall not threaten you again, he is a