AN OUTLAW TRIBE. By Frank Liliic Pollock. EARLY one September day I left tile river steamer on the head waters of the Ottawa, and struck off into a wilder ness broken by settlements only near the navigable reaches of the river. I was.looking for a farm. My uncle, who had been in the mil itia during the "Fenian raids," unex pectedly found himself entitled to a quarter-section of what was known as "veterans' lauds" in northern On tario, aud as he was unable to leave his business, I had volunteered to se lect a desirable claim. This would at the same time give me an opportunity for my customary annual camping expedition. Byway of companion I took with me a small but abnormally restless fox terrier who had been In the woods with me before. No one can possibly bo lonely In the company of a fox-terrier, and I had educated .Tack to take a more scientitle interest in partridges and rabbits than is natural to his breed. Having such small game and the occasional backwoods settlers to depend upon, I expected to have no difficulty about provisions, and carried merely a few pounds of concentrated supplies in my knapsack. The rest of ray load consisted simply of a gun and a liberal stock of ammunition. At the end of (lie corduroy road, with n geo logical survey map as a guide, I took a half-obliterated trail into the forest. I found settlers less frequent, the land less promising, and the woods' much less penetrable than I bad been led to expect. For three days and a half Jack and I threaded the tangled undergrowth, became involved in swamps, and rafted ourselves across rivers. During all this time the weather bad been perfect, but the >urth day rose cold and cloudy. At .'.bout noon a heavy rain began, that presently settled into a dismal, all-day drizzle which saturated everything above ground, and produced an inde scribably dreary effect of autumn and desolation. It depressed even .Tack's abundant spirits, and he trotted soberly behind me. manifesting only a slight interest in the rabbit and woodehuek burrows We passed. As for myself, I did not much mind getting drenched; but I greatly disliked the idea of a wet camp. No shelter presented itself, but short ly before sunset I came unexpectedly upon an unmistakable wood-road, choked with "second growth," yet in dicating the neighborhood of human beings. I turned up it at once, with the pleasurable anticipation of finding a clearing and a hospitable settler at the end of it; but as the road continued to show every indication of long dis use, these hopes gradually weakened. Still, there was certain to be a building of some sort, even if deserted, and, in deed, a quarter of a mile farther the road curved a little, and I saw before me the expected clearing, with the empty log shanty, black-windowed and