216 THE FUNERAL. 



shootin' iron ; an' at the crack I heerd the ball take the 

 poor young woman wi' a thud yer cud hear five rods 

 off. 'Twur orf ul ! Boyees, this niggur's seed a many 

 ugly sights in his time, but may I be considerable 

 blamed if any o' 'em kin toe up to the mark wi' these 

 hyur doin's ! Wagh ! it freezes my old gizzard to 

 think o't !" 



The funeral took place at an early hour the next day. 

 Not far from the fort was a small plot of emerald green 

 grass surrounded by trees and traversed by a little 

 brook, on the banks of which, at a spot whence a vista 

 through the trees gave a glimpse of the Athabasca, a 

 grave was dug. A rustic seat stood near, where the 

 ill-fated girl had been accustomed to spend much of 

 her time, occupied with her pencil or with her reading. 

 All the employes of the fort attended ; and, rough fel- 

 lows as these were, the sincerity of their grief was 

 evident. 



After the short and simple ceremony, the procession 

 returned to the fort, upon which a deep gloom seemed 

 to have descended. The men stood about in groups, 

 and conversed in low tones ; and whenever Mr. Frazer 

 appeared, their sympathy was evidenced by their sud- 

 den silence, and the profoundly respectful manner of 

 their bearing as he passed. 



This was a day of intensest misery to Pierre. He 

 felt in some sort answerable for the dreadful event, 

 which his conscience told him would not have taken 

 place if he had had the moral courage to obey its die- 



