"Not very good. Game gets scarce. Still I made three hundred and seventy dollars in a fortnight," he replied.
"Pretty fair; and what was your game?"
"The blue fox, near Hudson's Bay," continued the other; "I have been home three weeks. But you say nothing of your sister."
"I am not in the habit of questioning you, father."
"The boy is right," said the old man; "it is your place to speak."
"I suppose," cried the hunter, "Angela is in the village."
"No, my son, she is absent," continued the old man, "and I am sorry for it, as she was the joy of the house."
"Where is she then, father?" asked Bright-eye.
"About five days' march, with our cousin Lagrenay, the squatter of the Wind River. His wife has been ill, he is alone; having no one to take care of her, he came here and asked for Angela to stay a few days."
"My dear father, our cousin Lagrenay's settlement is a long way off, in the heart of the Indian country."