The customary salutations were then exchanged with the stranger; when the hunter, instinctively understanding that often violated rule of true politeness which requires of the introducer some accompanying remark, giving a clue to the position and character of the introduced, so as to gratify the natural curiosity felt on such occasions, and to impart more freedom to the conversation, quickly resumed: “Mr. Carvil is a Green Mountain boy, who loves hunting, partly for the health it gives, and partly for the fun of it. His old range has usually been round the Great Megantic, the other side of the highlands, in Canada, where I have heard of him through the St. Francis Indians. But, having a mind to see and try this side, he came on a few days ago, inquired me out, and turned in with me. We from below have invited him to join our company; are you all here agreed to that?” “Certainly,” said Mark Elwood, in his usual off-hand manner. “Certainly,” added Claud, more specifically, “I think we ought to be gratified in such an acquisition to our company.” “And you, Codman?” said the hunter, turning inquiringly to the trapper. “It is your turn to speak. But don’t show the gentleman so many of your bad streaks, to begin with, as to put him out of conceit of you before he has time to find out your good ones.” “Well, I don’t see but I must run the risk, then,” said the trapper; “my streaks always come out as they come up, I never pick any of them out as samples for strangers. But to the question,--well, let’s run him over once, if he won’t be mad: high cheek bones, showing him enough of the Indian make to be a good hunter; a crank, steady eye, indicating honest motives, and a good resolution, that won’t allow a man to rest easy till his object is carried out; and lastly, a well-put-together, wiry frame, to bear fatigues, and do the work which so large a head must often lay out for it. Yes, he passes muster with me bravely: let him in, with a welcome.” Carvil rewarded these good-natured running commentaries on his person and supposed qualities, with a complacent bow; when the trapper turned to the other canoe, which, with Gaut Gurley and the young Indian described in a preceding chapter on board, now came within speaking distance, and sang out: “Hil-lo! there, you, captain, who made the big logs fly so like the de-i-vel, the other day, whether the old chap had any hand in it or not, what red genius is that you have brought along with you?” “It’s Tomah, the young red man from the Connecticut-river region, who hunted some in this section last fall, I understand. I supposed you had met him before,” replied Gaut. “O, ah, well, yes,” responded Codman; “I bethink me, now, it is the young Indian that went to college, but couldn’t be kept there long enough to make any thing else, though long enough, may be, to spoil him for a hunter.”