The rest of the party now approached, and the stranger was quickly joined by twelve comrades, four of whom were like himself “ Canadian travellers,” and eight Chippeway Indians. The leader was a tall man-a fine specimen of his class-those Canadian trappers described in the romances of Washington Irving, whose competition Hobson had dreaded with such good reason. He wore the traditional costume ascribed to his fellow-hunters by the great American writer; a blanket loosely arranged about his person, a striped cotton shirt, wide cloth trousers, leather gaiters, deerskin mocassins, and a sash of checked woollen stuff round the waist, from which were suspended his knife, tobacco-pouch, pipe, and a few useful tools. Hobson was right. The man before him was a Frenchman, or at least a descendant of the French Canadians, perhaps an agent of the American Company come to act as a spy on the settlers in the fort. The other four Canadians wore a costume resembling that of their leader, but of coarser materials. The Frenchman bowed politely to Mrs Barnett, and the Lieutenant was the first to break the silence, during which he had not removed his eyes from his rival’s face. “This fox is mine, sir,” he said quietly. “It is if you killed it !” replied the other in good English, but with a slightly foreign accent. “Excuse me, sir,” replied Hobson rather sharply, “it is mine in any case.” The stranger smiled. scornfully at this lofty reply, so exactly what be expected from an agent of the Hudson’s Bay Company, which claims supremacy over all the northern districts, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. “Do you mean to say,” he said at last, gracefully toying with his gun, “that you consider the Hudson’s Bay Company mistress of the whole of North America?” “Of course I do,” said Hobson; “and if, as I imagine, you belong to an American company— “To the St Louis Fur Company,” replied the stranger with a bow. “I think,” added the Lieutenant, “that you will find it difficult to show the grants entitling you to any privileges here.” “Grants! privileges !” cried the Canadian scornfully, “old world terms which are out of place in America !” “You are not now on American but on English ground,” replied the Lieutenant proudly. “This is no time for such a discussion,” said the hunter rather warmly. “We all know the old claims made by the English in general, and the Hudson’s Bay Company in particular, to these hunting grounds; but I expect coming events will soon alter this state of things, and America will be America from the Straits of Magellan to the North Pole !” “I do not agree with you,” replied Hobson dryly.