his breast by touching its outlines with his brilliant paint. Also, he rebraided his scalp-lock with great care, doubtless desiring that it should appear a genteel trophy if taken from him, and be an honour to his conqueror and himself.

These matters presently accomplished, he drew from their soft and beaded sheaths hatchet and knife, and fell to shining them up as industriously as a full-fed cat polishes her fur.

“Mayaro,” said I, amused, “is a battle then near at hand that you make so complete a preparation for it?”

A half-smile appeared for a moment on his lips:

“It is always well to be prepared for life or death, Loskiel, my younger brother.”

“Oho!”