Mr. Campbell signed his name, and handed the pen to Martin Super, who then for the first time spoke. "Surveyor, I don't know how my name is spelt; and if I did, I couldn't write it, so I must do it Indian fashion, and put my totem to it?" "What is your name among the Indians, Martin?" "The Painter," replied Martin, who then made under Mr. Campbell's name, a figure like [Illustration of a panther] saying, "There, that's my name as near as I can draw it." "Very good," replied the Surveyor-General; "here is the document all right, Mr. Campbell. Ladies, I fear I must run away, for I have an engagement. I will leave Martin Super, Mr. Campbell, as you would probably like a little conversation together." The Surveyor-General then took his leave, and Martin Super remained. Mrs. Campbell was the first who spoke: "Super," said she, "I hope we shall be very good friends, but now tell me what you mean by your--totem, I think you called it?" "Why, ma'am, a totem is an Indian's mark, and you know I am almost an Indian myself. All the Indian chiefs have their totems. One is called the Great Otter; another the Serpent, and so on, and so they sign a figure like the animal they are named from. Then, ma'am, you see, we trappers, who almost live with them, have names given to us also and they have called me the Painter." "Why did they name you the Painter?" "Because I killed two of them in one day." "Killed two painters!" cried the girls. "Yes, miss; killed them both with my rifle." "But why did you kill the men?" said Emma; "was it in battle?" "Kill the men, miss; I said nothing about men; I said I killed two painters," replied Martin, laughing, and showing a row of teeth as white as ivory. "What is a painter, then, Super?" inquired Mrs. Campbell. "Why, it's an animal, and a very awkward creature, I can tell you, sometimes." "The drawing is something like a panther, mamma," exclaimed Mary. "Well, miss, it may be a panther, but we only know them by the other name." Mr. Farquhar then came in, and the question was referred to him; he laughed and told them that painters were a species of panther, not spotted but tawny-colored, and at times very dangerous. "Do you know the part of the country where we are going to?" said Henry to Super. "Yes, I have trapped thereabouts for months, but the beavers are scarce now." "Are there any other animals there?" "Yes," replied Martin, "small game, as we term it." "What sort are they?" "Why, there's painters, and bears, and catamounts." "Mercy on us! do you call that small game? why, what must the large be, then?" said Mrs. Campbell. "Buffaloes, missus, is what we call big game." "But the animals you speak of are not good eating, Super," said Mrs. Campbell; "is there no game that we can eat?" "Oh, yes, plenty of deer and wild turkey, and bear's good eating, I reckon." "Ah! that sounds better."