"They laid a rope wi' a lairge runnin' loop on the end o't alang the ice, an' laid a seal on't that had been tostit ower the fire. Verra sune the bears wad begin tae gether roond it. When one wad get inside o' the loop the men wad draw the rope, as the bear wad be hodden by the legs, than they wad turn the ither en' o' the rope roon' the capstan an' haul the beast on board. The growlin' an' the roarin' that resultit wad mak the hair o' your heed stan' on en'." "Did your friend Mackenzie make any other discoveries?" asked Bearie. "Ay, sir," replied the Scot. "He made the discoverie o' his life, when, three years aifter his comin' back tae the Fort, he set oot in sairch o' the Pacific Ocean, and foond it, tae. It was a thing that nae white mon had ever dune afore 'im, an' I doot if ony ane but Sandy could a stood the dangers an' deeficulties that he cam' through, what wi' a sulky crew that nearly drave him mad an' ither things. He was a brave, graun' mon, was Sandy. Weel, he left the Fort in October, an' gangin' up the Ungigah River, he gaed across the continent till he got tae the sea the next July, when he inscribed on the solid cliffs on the shore the fac' o' his discoverie." Long before sunrise the chief cook gave a loud and startling shout, "_Alerte!_" No man dared linger for forty winks more, for after a hurried breakfast the North-bound crews shouldered their canoes and packs and commenced their long and tedious portage, and the return-crew launched their frail barques, and before pushing out into the mighty current, twenty paddlers in each boat--each squatting on his slender bag of necessaries--the priest pulled off his hat, and in a loud voice commenced a Latin prayer to the saints for a blessing on the voyage, to which the men responded in chorus. "Qu'il me benisse." After which they floated down the stream singing: "En roulant ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule, Derrièr chez nous ya t'un étang, En roulant ma boule, Trois beaux canards s'en vont baignant, Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant." CHAPTER VII. "_A MINISTERING ANGEL, THOU._" 1808. Two years had passed since the interrupted meeting in the tent. Not a word had Chrissy received from her lover. At length a report reached her, through a passing brigade, that George Morrison had been sent to the vicinity of Great Bear Lake to open a trading-post for his company, and that nothing had since been heard or seen of him.