the reel hummed like a buzz-saw as thirty yards of the line ran out. As I checked the fish he rushed past the boat within reach of Mitchell's landing-net. He made one sweep and a five-pound brook trout lay panting in the boat, my first fish in the Adirondacks.

What followed was mere repetition. Every time the fly struck the water a half-dozen trout leaped to seize it. My tackle was strong, and Mitchell looked upon playing the fish as a waste of time. In a short half-hour five brook trout lay in our boat side by side, weighing a little more than twenty pounds. It was enough to supply our table. I would not commit the crime of killing such splendid game for which we had no use. That short half-hour was an era in my life. The uniformity of size and weight, I suppose, arose from the fact that all the trout were full-grown.

In those delightful five weeks I formed an attachment for these guides which lasted as long as they lived. From Wetherby, and later from others, I learned that Sabattis was a generous fellow whom every one liked, but he would get drunk upon every opportunity, and then he was a madman. His wife was a worthy white woman. They had five children. The sons were as skilled in woodcraft as their father and inherited the excellent qualities of their mother. One of them grew up with the figure of Apollo, and when I last saw him I thought that physically he was the most perfect man I had ever seen.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE STORY OF MITCHELL SABATTIS.

I SPENT my last night at Mitchell's home in Newcomb, where a conveyance from Elizabethtown was to meet me. Mitchell and his wife appeared depressed by some impending calamity. I made them. tell me their trouble. There was a mortgage upon their home and little farm. It was due, the property was to be sold about four weeks later, and they saw no way of avoiding this, to them, ruinous result. If his home was sold, Mitchell's habits would be worse than ever.

Mitchell's wife assured me that he was proud of the fact that he had never broken his word; she said he was a kind husband, and if she could induce him to promise not to drink, she would even be reconciled to the loss of her home.

The next morning when the horses were at the door and I was about to leave, I called Mitchell and his wife into their little "square room," seated myself between them, and asked:

"Mitchell, what would you give to one who would buy your mortgage and give you time in which to pay it?"

"I would give my life," he exclaimed, "the day after I had paid the debt. I would give it now if I could leave this little place to my Bessie and her children."

"It will not cost you so much as that," I said. “I am going to Elizabethtown. I shall buy or pay your mortgage. Your home will not be sold. On the morning of the second day of August of next year, I want you and "Lon' with your boats to meet me at Bartlett's, between the Upper and Lower Saranac Lakes. If you there tell me that you have not drunk a glass of strong liquor since I saw you last, your mortgage shall not trouble you so long as you will keep your promise not to drink. If you break your promise I do not know what I shall do, but I shall lose all my confidence in Mitchell Sabattis. Your wife and children will not be driven from their home until you get drunk again."

He promised instantly, solemnly. He rose from his chair. I thought he looked every inch the chief which by birth he claimed to be as he said: “You may think you cannot trust me, but you can! Sabattis when he was sober never told a lie. He will never lie to his friend."

For a few minutes there was in that humble room a very touching scene. The Indian silent, solemn, but for the speaking arm thrown lovingly around the neck of his wife, apparently emotionless-the wife trying to say through her tears-"I told you you could trust Mitchell! He will keep his promise-he will never get drunk again. I know him so well! I am certain that he will not drink, and we shall be so happy. Oh! I am the happiest woman alive!"

"Well! well!" I said, "let us hope for the best; we must wait and see. Mitchell, remember the 2d of next August-Bartlett's-and in the mean time no whiskey!" And so we parted.

I bought, took an assignment of the mortgage and

One

carried it to my home. Other duties occupied me, and Sabattis had long been out of my mind. evening late in the following February, just at nightfall, I was watching the falling snow from my library window in Burlington, when a singular conveyance stopped almost in front of my door. It was a long, unpainted sled, the runners hewn from natural crooks, with stakes some five feet high inclosing an oblong box of rough boards, to which were harnessed two unmatched horses. The driver travelled by the side. of the horses, carrying a long gad of unpainted wood having no lash. He wore a cap and coat of bear-skin, which concealed his features.

Taking him to be some stranger who had lost his way, I went to his assistance. As I made some observation, a voice deep down inside the bear-skin said: "Why! it's Mr. Chittenden. I was looking for you and your house."

"In the name

"Mitchell Sabattis!" I exclaimed. of all that is astonishing, what are you doing here?" For a moment he made no answer. As I came nearer his arms worked strangely, as if he would like to throw them around me. His voice was tremulous

as he said: "I am so glad. I was afeared I should not find you this town is so big and there are so many houses and men and roads. I was looking for a place where they would feed and take in the horses."

"But what has brought you here, a hundred and fifty miles from your home in Newcomb?"

"Yes! yes! We have been very lucky this fall and winter. My wife said I had better come. I have had good fortune. Sold all my furs and my saddles of venison for money. Just now the season

So we talked it You remember right words.

I

is over and I had nothing to do. over, my wife Bessie and me. Bessie. Somehow I can't get the would like to tell you to-morrow. Do you know of some place where they would take in the horses?" "But what is this sled loaded with?"

"Nothing-much. Only a little game for you. I will tell you all about it to-morrow."

I went with him to a stable where his horses were taken in and his load put under lock and key. I took him to my house, although he protested that he had his own supplies and could just as well stay in the stable. His personal neatness, his civility, and the oddity of his expressions delighted every member of my household. A warm supper and a like welcome soon opened his heart, and I gathered from him the following details:

Good fortune had attended him from the time when he was relieved from anxiety about the mortgage. He had employment as a guide until the season for trapping and shooting for market began. He had never killed so many deer nor got so good prices in money for venison. He had paid all his little debts and saved one hundred dollars, which his wife said he ought to bring to me. They thought I would like a little game. So he had built a sled, borrowed two horses, made up a little load, and he had travelled that long and hard road from the head of Long Lake to Crown Point and thence to Burlington, not less than one hundred and fifty miles.

A refusal of his gift was not to be thought of. The next morning I took my butcher to his little load of game. There were the saddles or hind quarters of twenty-five fat deer in their skins, two car