THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS. 153

She is beautiful in form, and my comrades call her the
white swan.”

Redfeather said this with an air of gratified pride.
He did not, perhaps, love his wife with more fervour
than he would have done had he remained with his
tribe; but Redfeather had associated a great deal with
the traders, and he had imbibed much of that spirit
which prompts “white men” to treat their females with
deference and respect—a feeling which is very foreign to
an Indian’s bosom. To do so was, besides, more con-
genial to his naturally unselfish and affectionate disposi-
tion, so that any flattering allusion to his partner was
always received by him with immense gratification.

“Tl pay you a visit some day, Redfeather, if I’m
sent to any place within fifty miles of your tribe,” said
Charley, with the air of one who had fully made up
his mind.

“ And Misconna?” asked Harry.

“Misconna is with his tribe,’ replied the Indian, and
a frown overspread his features as he spoke; “but Red-
feather has been following in the track of his white
friends ; he has not seen his nation for many moons.”