on without waiting for an answer, his enthusiasm, his deference to my opinion, his charm of manner, his beautiful face, his luminous eyes, made him perfectly irresistible; and before I was aware I was listening to his plans for working his mission with eager interest. So eager was my interest, indeed, that before I was aware I found myself asking him to tea with me in my shack. But he declined, saying:
"I'd like to, awfully; but do you know, I think Latour expects me."
This consideration of Latour's feelings almost upset me.
"You come with me," he added, and I went.
Latour welcomed us with his grim old face wreathed in unusual smiles. The Pilot had been talking to him, too.
"I've got it, Latour!" he cried out as he entered; "here you are," and he broke into the beautiful French-Canadian chanson, "Á la Claire Fontaine," to the old half-breed's almost tearful delight.
"Do you know," he went on, "I heard that first down the Mattawa, "and away he went into a story of an experience with French-Canadian raftsmen, mixing up his French and English in so charming
