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in the snow, had gone to the hearts of the men, and they were glad to get away when all was over.

There was not an adventure, not an achievement, not a hazard or escape of any one to allude to. The only heroic act was that of the little skeleton savage with his club. I think they almost wished they had butchered and scalped this boy as they had threatened. To think that the only achievement of the wliole affair worth mentioning was that of an Indian, and an Indian boy at that ! They did not mention it.

The men were nearly all gone now, stringing up along the snowy trail by twos and threes, toward The Forks. A few still lingered about the smouldering wigwams, or stood looking down into the river, grinding its blocks of ice in its mighty, rocky jaws.

The boy had not moved. I believe he had not lifted his eyes. The sharp wind, pitching up and down and across, cut him no doubt, on the one hand, while the burning wigwams scorched him on the other ; but he did not move.

The Prince had stood there all this time like a king, turning sometimes to watch this man or that, but never going aside, never giving way an inch for any one. They went around him, they avoided him, or deferred to him in every way possible. From the very moment he came down from the bluff to the bank of the river, and they saw him in their midst, they felt the presence of a master and a man.

I had always said to myself, this man is of royal blood. This man was born to lead and control. To