"Where shall we go?"

"Way off," and Kitty waved her hand to the right. "Beeg wood, see?"

"And you will take me there? But I want to go home."

"A-ha-ha, go home dat way, bimeby," and she pointed westward. "Beeg
ribber, Wu-las-tukw."

"I never heard of that river. Where is it?"

"Way off dere. Wat you call'm?"

"The St. John?"

"A-ha-ha. Injun call'm 'Wu-las-tukw,' beeg ribber."

"And you will take me there?"

"Bimeby, mebbe. Sam know."

They were seated near the fire during this conversation, and the Indian
woman was busy with a deer-skin garment. It was a warm looking jacket,
and she was sewing on an extra string of bright-coloured beads. When
this had been accomplished to her satisfaction, she held it forth for
Jean's inspection.

"Good coat," she said. "Try'm on, eh?"

Jean at once stood up, and when she had slipped on the jacket, the