210 MEN 1 HAVE FISHED WITH. 



A smoke followed, and then it transpired, as Antoine 

 translated it, that one of their friends had somehow 

 broken his leg, and they wanted him to go and set it. 

 The distance to their camp was only five miles, and if I 

 didn't mind he would go at once. It seems that he had 

 a reputation for surgery among these people, and I had 

 three good reasons for wishing him to start immediately. 

 Of course the humanity of fixing the man's leg was one 

 reason; keeping on good terms with men who could rob 

 and destroy our traps and drive us out of the country 

 was another, and I fear that the third was a desire to get 

 rid of guests who would devour our stores and breed a 

 famine was as strong a reason as the other two. 



After the exodus I cooked a partridge and some veni- 

 son chops to take on the line, baked two more loaves of 

 bread, and had the kettle boiling to make coffee when 

 Antoine should return. A light rain the night before 

 had made a crust upon the snow and snowshoes were not 

 needed. It was long after dark when his step was heard 

 crunching in the crust, and in he walked with his rifle 

 and a coon. I told him that it was well that he had the 

 coon, for I had cooked all the meat in sight, and there 

 was only enough for our supper and for me to take on 

 my trip. There were fish enough for breakfast, and now 

 there was coon fat enough to fry them in. In the words 

 of that old hunting song of Mr. Raynor's: "Why should 

 the hunter lack?" 



Antoine said: "Dat make no difF. Wen I'll got 

 hunger I'll catch de feesh or I'll kill a deer or pa'tridge, 

 or I'll go hunger. It makes no diff', I'll come along, 

 you doan min' me, no." 



After supper we smoked in silence. I had said all 

 that could be said about the camp larder in order that 

 he might not put off replenishing it before he got hun- 



