A broad band of yellow ochre across his forehead and a tomahawk at his belt added to the strange inconsistency of his appearance.
The other was undoubtedly a pure Frenchman, elderly, dark and wiry, with a bristling black beard and a fierce eager face.

He, too, was clad in hunter's dress, but he wore a gaudy striped sash round his waist, into which a brace of long pistols had been thrust.

His buckskin tunic had been ornamented over the front with dyed porcupine quills and Indian bead-work, while his leggings were scarlet with a fringe of raccoon tails hanging down from them.

Leaning upon his long brown gun he stood watching the party, while his companion advanced towards them.
"You will excuse our precautions," said he.

"We never know what device these rascals may adopt to entrap us.