"Oui, Monsieur, yees," was the answer. "Dey be Micmacs, and Micmacs goot Indians. Not like de Hurons, who scalp all de tam. But let white man cheat a Micmac, or run away wid heem squaw; den by Gar he have revanche. He follow dat man till he kill him wid his hatchet, den put him in de ground; and no wan ever hear of him no more."
"Whew!" exclaimed Helen, with a little shiver. "They must be very good Indians, indeed, if they kill a man for cheating."
"Ah, madame! so dey be. Just treat Micmac square, he treat you square too."
"How do they build their wigwams?" the Chaplain asked. "They are very substantial looking."
"Vell, I tell you. I been in dem manys de time. Dey juss as warm as Madame's boudoir wid lettle stove in it. Dey make 'em of cedar poles, tight in groun' and fastened togeder tight at top. Den dey bind dem roun' all ovare wid strong green bark put on like shingles, and so close dat water can't get in. Dey make 'em in summare so it dry by wintare. Nex dey put on straight spruce branches all over de outside and spruce green branches all over de inside—till it is like de man from de contree—green all de way tru."
"Bateese, I didn't know you were so witty," exclaimed the Chaplain.
"Vell, by Gar, ef a man drive all de tam, day after day all wintare long, most tam wid no wan to spoke to, an' ees femme or ees fille a t'ousand miles away, ef ee can't jess tink of somet'ing funny he die."
By this time the chief with a number of his tribe were out on the road, and on the approach of Sir George's sleigh he threw up his right arm and shouted:
"Kwa."
"Yer honor, the spalpeen means how do yees do," said Pat, Sir George's driver, in a low voice.