For a time there was a lull in the babel of voices, when suddenly their attention was arrested by the sound of a stealthy step of moccasined feet on the crust, and the tall, stately form of an Indian emerged from the woods. "Hullo, Machecawa, is that you?" said the Chief. "You are just in time. We want you to show us how to dance the war-dance, and then we shall give you a good tin of 'sucre.'" Machecawa was quite equal to the emergency, for when asked by the Chief if he liked sugar he replied: "Ba, oui," with a decided emphasis on the "_oui_." Then approaching the fire, he asked: "Who belongs to dees pot?" pointing to the huge kettle. "It belongs to Mrs. Bancroft, who will give you a good share of sugar if you will dance for us." The young people laughed heartily as Machecawa stamped and danced and sang a strange monotonous song. Not a muscle of his face betrayed fun or amusement. He went through with it all as gravely and seriously as though he were about to rush into conflict with his enemies, the inevitable whoop terminating the ludicrous performance. By this time the sugar was ready to pour into moulds. Mrs. Bancroft had removed the small kettle from the fire, and was stirring it vigorously, when she called: "Ephraim, it is your turn to stir now. My arms is near broke." In a moment Ephraim was beside her, and was straining the muscles of his right arm in stirring the fast cooling sugar. The contents of the pot were then poured into dishes of various shapes and sizes, which were imbedded in the snow, the largest of which was handed to Machecawa, who sat on a fallen log and began to devour the contents greedily. At length he caught sight of Bearie, who was seated in Gideon Olmstead's cutter talking to Sarah. "Whoop!" cried the Indian, a ray of light creeping over his dark face. "De young chief's squaw? Some tam she am dat squaw, more some time she am de odder," he said, pointing his finger at Nancy. Shrieks of laughter resounded through the woods. "It is precisely what we would like to know ourselves," said Mary, the Chief's youngest daughter, who had made repeated attempts to draw from the boys their purposes and plans regarding the future. "Choose partners--choose partners for 'Auld Lang Syne,'" said the White Chief. "They seem to have chosen partners," said Christie, "but the trouble is they won't let any one into the secret." "No doubt," said the Chief, "they will declare their intentions in due time." The whole party then, at Mrs. Bancroft's request, gathered in a circle round the fire, and forming a chain, sang: "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind?" After which three cheers were given for the host and hostess, who had afforded them an opportunity of spending so enjoyable an evening. They were all seated in the sleighs and about to drive off in various directions, when Mrs. Wright called for Abbie. "Is Abbie with you, Mrs. Olmstead?" said the Chief.