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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wilderness Ways
+
+Author: William J Long
+
+Illustrator: Charles Copeland
+
+Release Date: May 31, 2005 [EBook #15950]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILDERNESS WAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi, Sankar
+Viswanathan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: frontispiece]
+
+
+
+                            WILDERNESS WAYS
+
+                                   BY
+
+                            WILLIAM J. LONG
+
+
+
+                            _SECOND SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+                            BOSTON, U.S.A.
+
+                      GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
+
+                          The Athenæum Press
+
+                                 1900
+
+
+
+
+TO KILLOOLEET, Little Sweet-Voice,
+who shares my camp and
+makes sunshine as I work and play.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+     The following sketches, like the "Ways of Wood Folk," are the
+     result of many years of personal observation in the woods and
+     fields. They are studies of animals, pure and simple, not of
+     animals with human motives and imaginations.
+
+     Indeed, it is hardly necessary for genuine interest to give human
+     traits to the beasts. Any animal is interesting enough as an
+     animal, and has character enough of his own, without borrowing
+     anything from man--as one may easily find out by watching long
+     enough.
+
+     Most wild creatures have but small measure of gentleness in them,
+     and that only by instinct and at short stated seasons. Hence I
+     have given both sides and both kinds, the shadows and lights, the
+     savagery as well as the gentleness of the wilderness creatures.
+
+     It were pleasanter, to be sure, especially when you have been
+     deeply touched by some exquisite bit of animal devotion, to let
+     it go at that, and to carry with you henceforth an ideal
+     creature.
+
+     But the whole truth is better--better for you, better for
+     children--else personality becomes confused with mere animal
+     individuality, and love turns to instinct, and sentiment
+     vaporizes into sentimentality.
+
+     This mother fox or fish-hawk here, this strong mother loon or
+     lynx that to-day brings the quick moisture to your eyes by her
+     utter devotion to the little helpless things which great Mother
+     Nature gave her to care for, will to-morrow, when they are grown,
+     drive those same little ones with savage treatment into the world
+     to face its dangers alone, and will turn away from their
+     sufferings thereafter with astounding indifference.
+
+     It is well to remember this, and to give proper weight to the
+     word, when we speak of the _love_ of animals for their little
+     ones.
+
+     I met a bear once--but this foolish thing is not to be
+     imitated--with two small cubs following at her heels. The mother
+     fled into the brush; the cubs took to a tree. After some timorous
+     watching I climbed after the cubs, and shook them off, and put
+     them into a bag, and carried them to my canoe, squealing and
+     appealing to the one thing in the woods that could easily have
+     helped them. I was ready enough to quit all claims and to take to
+     the brush myself upon inducement. But the mother had found a
+     blueberry patch and was stuffing herself industriously.
+
+     And I have seen other mother bears since then, and foxes and deer
+     and ducks and sparrows, and almost all the wild creatures
+     between, driving their own offspring savagely away. Generally
+     the young go of their own accord as early as possible, knowing no
+     affection but only dependence, and preferring liberty to
+     authority; but more than once I have been touched by the sight of
+     a little one begging piteously to be fed or just to stay, while
+     the mother drove him away impatiently. Moreover, they all kill
+     their weaklings, as a rule, and the burdensome members of too
+     large a family. This is not poetry or idealization, but just
+     plain animal nature.
+
+     As for the male animals, little can be said truthfully for their
+     devotion. Father fox and wolf, instead of caring for their mates
+     and their offspring, as we fondly imagine, live apart by
+     themselves in utter selfishness. They do nothing whatever for the
+     support or instruction of the young, and are never suffered by
+     the mothers to come into the den, lest they destroy their own
+     little ones. One need not go to the woods to see this; his own
+     stable or kennel, his own dog or cat will be likely to reveal the
+     startling brutality at the first good opportunity.
+
+     An indiscriminate love for all animals, likewise, is not the best
+     sentiment to cultivate toward creation. Black snakes in a land of
+     birds, sharks in the bluefish rips, rabbits in Australia, and
+     weasels everywhere are out of place in the present economy of
+     nature. Big owls and hawks, representing a yearly destruction of
+     thousands of good game birds and of untold innocent songsters,
+     may also be profitably studied with a gun sometimes instead of
+     an opera-glass. A mink is good for nothing but his skin; a red
+     squirrel--I hesitate to tell his true character lest I spoil too
+     many tender but false ideals about him all at once.
+
+     The point is this, that sympathy is too true a thing to be
+     aroused falsely, and that a wise discrimination, which recognizes
+     good and evil in the woods, as everywhere else in the world, and
+     which loves the one and hates the other, is vastly better for
+     children, young and old, than the blind sentimentality aroused by
+     ideal animals with exquisite human propensities. Therefore I
+     wrote the story of Kagax, simply to show him as he is, and so to
+     make you hate him.
+
+     In this one chapter, the story of Kagax the Weasel, I have
+     gathered into a single animal the tricks and cruelties of a score
+     of vicious little brutes that I have caught red-handed at their
+     work. In the other chapters I have, for the most part, again
+     searched my old notebooks and the records of wilderness camps,
+     and put the individual animals down just as I found them.
+
+
+
+                                             Wm. J. Long.
+
+      Stamford, September, 1900.
+
+
+
+
+                         CONTENTS.
+
+
+
+
+I. MEGALEEP THE WANDERER
+
+II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE
+
+III. KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY
+
+IV. KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT
+
+V. CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG
+
+VI. CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE
+
+VII. UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW
+
+VIII. HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE
+
+
+GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+I. MEGALEEP THE WANDERER.
+
+[Illustration: Megaleep]
+
+
+Megaleep is the big woodland caribou of the northern wilderness. His
+Milicete name means The Wandering One, but it ought to mean the
+Mysterious and the Changeful as well. If you hear that he is bold and
+fearless, that is true; and if you are told that he is shy and wary
+and inapproachable, that is also true. For he is never the same two
+days in succession. At once shy and bold, solitary and gregarious;
+restless as a cloud, yet clinging to his feeding grounds, spite of
+wolves and hunters, till he leaves them of his own free will; wild as
+Kakagos the raven, but inquisitive as a blue jay,--he is the most
+fascinating and the least known of all the deer.
+
+One thing is quite sure, before you begin your study: he is never
+where his tracks are, nor anywhere near it. And if after a season's
+watching and following you catch one good glimpse of him, that is a
+good beginning.
+
+I had always heard and read of Megaleep as an awkward, ungainly
+animal, but almost my first glimpse of him scattered all that to the
+winds and set my nerves a-tingling in a way that they still remember.
+It was on a great chain of barrens in the New Brunswick wilderness. I
+was following the trail of a herd of caribou one day, when far ahead a
+strange clacking sound came ringing across the snow in the crisp
+winter air. I ran ahead to a point of woods that cut off my view from
+a five-mile barren, only to catch breath in astonishment and drop to
+cover behind a scrub spruce. Away up the barren my caribou, a big herd
+of them, were coming like an express train straight towards me. At
+first I could make out only a great cloud of steam, a whirl of flying
+snow, and here and there the angry shake of wide antlers or the gleam
+of a black muzzle. The loud clacking of their hoofs, sweeping nearer
+and nearer, gave a snap, a tingle, a wild exhilaration to their rush
+which made one want to shout and swing his hat. Presently I could make
+out the individual animals through the cloud of vapor that drove down
+the wind before them. They were going at a splendid trot, rocking
+easily from side to side like pacing colts, power, grace, tirelessness
+in every stride. Their heads were high, their muzzles up, the antlers
+well back on heaving shoulders. Jets of steam burst from their
+nostrils at every bound; for the thermometer was twenty below zero,
+and the air snapping. A cloud of snow whirled out and up behind them;
+through it the antlers waved like bare oak boughs in the wind; the
+sound of their hoofs was like the clicking of mighty castanets--"Oh
+for a sledge and bells!" I thought; for Santa Claus never had such a
+team.
+
+So they came on swiftly, magnificently, straight on to the cover
+behind which I crouched with nerves thrilling as at a cavalry
+charge,--till I sprang to my feet with a shout and swung my hat; for,
+as there was meat enough in camp, I had small wish to use my rifle,
+and no desire whatever to stand that rush at close quarters and be run
+down. There was a moment of wild confusion out on the barren just in
+front of me. The long swinging trot, that caribou never change if they
+can help it, was broken into an awkward jumping gallop. The front rank
+reared, plunged, snorted a warning, but were forced onward by the
+pressure behind. Then the leading bulls gave a few mighty bounds which
+brought them close up to me, but left a clear space for the
+frightened, crowding animals behind. The swiftest shot ahead to the
+lead; the great herd lengthened out from its compact mass; swerved
+easily to the left, as at a word of command; crashed through the
+fringe of evergreen in which I had been hiding,--out into the open
+again with a wild plunge and a loud cracking of hoofs, where they all
+settled into their wonderful trot again, and kept on steadily across
+the barren below.
+
+That was the sight of a lifetime. One who saw it could never again
+think of caribou as ungainly animals.
+
+Megaleep belongs to the tribe of Ishmael. Indeed, his Latin name, as
+well as his Indian one, signifies The Wanderer; and if you watch him a
+little while you will understand perfectly why he is called so. The
+first time I ever met him in summer, in strong contrast to the winter
+herd, made his name clear in a moment. It was twilight on a wilderness
+lake. I was sitting in my canoe by the inlet, wondering what kind of
+bait to use for a big trout which lived in an eddy behind a rock, and
+which disdained everything I offered him. The swallows were busy,
+skimming low, and taking the young mosquitoes as they rose from the
+water. One dipped to the surface near the eddy. As he came down I saw
+a swift gleam in the depths below. He touched the water; there was a
+swirl, a splash--and the swallow was gone. The trout had him.
+
+Then a cow caribou came out of the woods onto the grassy point above
+me to drink. First she wandered all over the point, making it look
+afterwards as if a herd had passed. Then she took a sip of water by a
+rock, crossed to my side of the point, and took a sip there; then to
+the end of the point, and another sip; then back to the first place. A
+nibble of grass, and she waded far out from shore to sip there; then
+back, with a nod to a lily pad, and a sip nearer the brook. Finally
+she meandered a long way up the shore out of sight, and when I picked
+up the paddle to go, she came back again. Truly a _Wandergeist_ of the
+woods, like the plover of the coast, who never knows what he wants,
+nor why he circles about so, nor where he is going next.
+
+If you follow the herds over the barrens and through the forest in
+winter, you find the same wandering, unsatisfied creature. And if you
+are a sportsman and a keen hunter, with well established ways of
+trailing and stalking, you will be driven to desperation a score of
+times before you get acquainted with Megaleep. He travels enormous
+distances without any known object. His trail is everywhere; he is
+himself nowhere. You scour the country for a week, crossing
+innumerable trails, thinking the surrounding woods must be full of
+caribou; then a man in a lumber camp, where you are overtaken by
+night, tells you that he saw the herd you are after 'way down on the
+Renous barrens, thirty miles below. You go there, and have the same
+experience,--signs everywhere, old signs, new signs, but never a
+caribou. And, ten to one, while you are there, the caribou are
+sniffing your snowshoe track suspiciously back on the barrens that you
+have just left.
+
+Even in feeding, when you are hot on their trail and steal forward
+expecting to see them every moment, it is the same exasperating story.
+They dig a hole through four feet of packed snow to nibble the
+reindeer lichen that grows everywhere on the barrens. Before it is
+half eaten they wander off to the next barren and dig a larger hole;
+then away to the woods for the gray-green hanging moss that grows on
+the spruces. Here is a fallen tree half covered with the rich food.
+Megaleep nibbles a bite or two, then wanders away and away in search
+of another tree like the one he has just left.
+
+And when you find him at last, the chances are still against you. You
+are stealing forward cautiously when a fresh sign attracts attention.
+You stop to examine it a moment. Something gray, dim, misty, seems to
+drift like a cloud through the trees ahead. You scarcely notice it
+till, on your right, a stir, and another cloud, and another--The
+caribou, quick, a score of them! But before your rifle is up and you
+have found the sights, the gray things melt into the gray woods and
+drift away; and the stalk begins all over again.
+
+The reason for this restlessness is not far to seek. Megaleep's
+ancestors followed regular migrations in spring and autumn, like the
+birds, on the unwooded plains beyond the Arctic Circle. Megaleep never
+migrates; but the old instinct is in him and will not let him rest. So
+he wanders through the year, and is never satisfied.
+
+Fortunately nature has been kind to Megaleep in providing him with
+means to gratify his wandering disposition. In winter, moose and red
+deer must gather into yards and stay there. With the first heavy storm
+of December, they gather in small bands here and there on the hardwood
+ridges, and begin to make paths in the snow,--long, twisted, crooked
+paths, running for miles in every direction, crossing and recrossing
+in a tangle utterly hopeless to any head save that of a deer or moose.
+These paths they keep tramped down and more or less open all winter,
+so as to feed on the twigs and bark growing on either side. Were it
+not for this curious provision, a single severe winter would leave
+hardly a moose or a deer alive in the woods; for their hoofs are sharp
+and sink deep, and with six feet of snow on a level they can scarcely
+run half a mile outside their paths without becoming hopelessly
+stalled or exhausted.
+
+It is this great tangle of paths, by the way, which makes a deer or a
+moose yard; and not the stupid hole in the snow which is pictured in
+the geographies and most natural history books.
+
+But Megaleep the Wanderer makes no such provision he depends upon
+Mother Nature to take care of him. In summer he is brown, like the
+great tree trunks among which he moves unseen. Then the frog of his
+foot expands and grows spongy, so that he can cling to the
+mountain-side like a goat, or move silently over the dead leaves. In
+winter he becomes a soft gray, the better to fade into a snowstorm, or
+to stand concealed in plain sight on the edges of the gray, desolate
+barrens that he loves. Then the frog of his foot arches up out of the
+way; the edges of his hoof grow sharp and shell-like, so that he can
+travel over glare ice without slipping, and cut the crust to dig down
+for the moss upon which he feeds. The hoofs, moreover, are very large
+and deeply cleft, so as to spread widely when his weight is on them.
+When you first find his track in the snow, you rub your eyes, thinking
+that a huge ox must have passed that way. The dew-claws are also
+large, and the ankle joint so flexible that it lets them down upon the
+snow. So Megaleep has a kind of natural snowshoe with which he moves
+easily over the crust, and, except in very deep, soft snows, wanders
+at will, while other deer are prisoners in their yards. It is the
+snapping of these loose hoofs and ankle joints that makes the merry
+clacking sound as caribou run.
+
+Sometimes, however, they overestimate their abilities, and their
+wandering disposition brings them into trouble. Once I found a herd of
+seven up to their backs in soft snow, and tired out,--a strange
+condition for a caribou to be in. They were taking the affair
+philosophically, resting till they should gather strength to flounder
+to some spruce tops where moss was plenty. When I approached gently on
+snowshoes (I had been hunting them diligently the week before to kill
+them; but this put a different face on the matter) they gave a bound
+or two, then settled deep in the snow, and turned their heads and said
+with their great soft eyes: "You have hunted us. Here we are, at your
+mercy."
+
+They were very much frightened at first; then I thought they grew a
+bit curious, as I sat down peaceably in the snow to watch them. One--a
+doe, more exhausted than the others, and famished--even nibbled a bit
+of moss that I pushed near her with a stick. I had picked it with
+gloves, so that the smell of my hand was not on it. After an hour or
+so, if I moved softly, they let me approach quite up to them without
+shaking their antlers or renewing their desperate attempts to flounder
+away. But I did not touch them. That is a degradation which no wild
+creature will permit when he is free; and I would not take advantage
+of their helplessness.
+
+Did they starve in the snow? you ask. Oh, no! I went to the place next
+day and found that they had gained the spruce tops, ploughing through
+the snow in great bounds, following the track of the strongest, which
+went ahead to break the way. There they fed and rested, then went to
+some dense thickets where they passed the night. In a day or two the
+snow settled and hardened, and they took to their wandering again.
+
+Later, in hunting, I crossed their tracks several times, and once I
+saw them across a barren; but I left them undisturbed, to follow other
+trails. We had eaten together; they had fed from my hand; and there
+is no older truce on earth than that, not even in the unchanging East,
+where it originated.
+
+Megaleep in a storm is a most curious creature, the nearest thing to a
+ghost to be found in the woods. More than other animals he feels the
+falling barometer. His movements at such times drive you to
+desperation, if you are following him; for he wanders unceasingly.
+When the storm breaks he has a way of appearing suddenly, as if he
+were seeking you, when by his trail you thought him miles ahead. And
+the way he disappears--just melts into the thick driving flakes and
+the shrouded trees--is most uncanny. Six or seven caribou once played
+hide-and-seek with me that way, giving me vague glimpses here and
+there, drawing near to get my scent, yet keeping me looking up wind
+into the driving snow where I could see nothing distinctly. And all
+the while they drifted about like so many huge flakes of the storm,
+watching my every movement, seeing me perfectly.
+
+At such times they fear little, and even lay aside their usual
+caution. I remember trailing a large herd one day from early morning,
+keeping near them all the time, and jumping them half a dozen times,
+yet never getting a glimpse because of their extreme watchfulness. For
+some reason they were unwilling to leave a small chain of barrens.
+Perhaps they knew the storm was coming, when they would be safe; and
+so, instead of swinging off into a ten-mile straightaway trot at the
+first alarm, they kept dodging back and forth within a two-mile
+circle. At last, late in the afternoon, I followed the trail to the
+edge of dense evergreen thickets. Caribou generally rest in open woods
+or on the windward edge of a barren. Eyes for the open, nose for the
+cover, is their motto. And I thought, "They know perfectly well I am
+following them, and so have lain down in that tangle. If I go in, they
+will hear me; a wood mouse could hardly keep quiet in such a place. If
+I go round, they will catch my scent; if I wait, so will they; if I
+jump them, the scrub will cover their retreat perfectly."
+
+As I sat down in the snow to think it over, a heavy rush deep within
+the thicket told me that something, not I certainly, had again started
+them. Suddenly the air darkened, and above the excitement of the hunt
+I felt the storm coming. A storm in the woods is no joke when you are
+six miles from camp without axe or blanket. I broke away from the
+trail and started for the head of the second barren on the run. If I
+could make that, I was safe; for there was a stream near, which led
+near to camp; and one cannot very well lose a stream, even in a
+snowstorm. But before I was halfway the flakes were driving thick and
+soft in my face. Another half-mile, and one could not see fifty feet
+in any direction. Still I kept on, holding my course by the wind and
+my compass. Then, at the foot of the second barren, my snowshoes
+stumbled into great depressions in the snow, and I found myself on the
+fresh trail of my caribou again. "If I am lost, I will at least have a
+caribou steak, and a skin to wrap me up in," I said, and plunged after
+them. As I went, the old Mother Goose rhyme of nursery days came back
+and set itself to hunting music:
+
+  Bye, baby bunting,
+  Daddy's gone a hunting,
+  For to catch a rabbit skin
+  To wrap the baby bunting in.
+
+Presently I began to sing it aloud. It cheered one up in the storm,
+and the lilt of it kept time to the leaping kind of gallop which is
+the easiest way to run on snowshoes: "Bye, baby bunting; bye, baby
+bunting--Hello!"
+
+A dark mass loomed suddenly up before me on the open barren. The storm
+lightened a bit, before setting in heavier; and there were the caribou
+just in front of me, standing in a compact mass, the weaker ones in
+the middle. They had no thought nor fear of me apparently; they
+showed no sign of anger or uneasiness. Indeed, they barely moved aside
+as I snowshoed up, in plain sight, without any precaution whatever.
+And these were the same animals that had fled upon my approach at
+daylight, and that had escaped me all day with marvelous cunning.
+
+As with other deer, the storm is Megaleep's natural protector. When it
+comes he thinks that he is safe; that nobody can see him; that the
+falling snow will fill his tracks and kill his scent; and that
+whatever follows must speedily seek cover for itself. So he gives up
+watching, and lies down where he will. So far as his natural enemies
+are concerned, he is safe in this; for lynx and wolf and panther, seek
+shelter with a falling barometer. They can neither see nor smell; and
+they are all afraid. I have often noticed that among all animals and
+birds, from the least to the greatest, there is always a truce when
+the storms are out.
+
+But the most curious thing I ever stumbled into was a caribou school.
+That sounds queer; but it is more common in the wilderness than one
+thinks. All gregarious animals have perfectly well defined social
+regulations, which the young must learn and respect. To learn them,
+they go to school in their own interesting way.
+
+The caribou I am speaking of now are all woodland caribou--larger,
+finer animals every way than the barren-ground caribou of the desolate
+unwooded regions farther north. In summer they live singly, rearing
+their young in deep forest seclusions. There each one does as he
+pleases. So when you meet a caribou in summer, he is a different
+creature, and has more unknown and curious ways than when he runs with
+the herd in midwinter. I remember a solitary old bull that lived on
+the mountain-side opposite my camp one summer, a most interesting
+mixture of fear and boldness, of reserve and intense curiosity. After
+I had hunted him a few times, and he found that my purpose was wholly
+peaceable, he took to hunting me in the same way, just to find out who
+I was, and what queer thing I was doing. Sometimes I would see him at
+sunset on a dizzy cliff across the lake, watching for the curl of
+smoke or the coming of a canoe. And when I dove in for a swim and went
+splashing, dog-paddle way, about the island where my tent was, he
+would walk about in the greatest excitement, and start a dozen times
+to come down; but always he ran back for another look, as if
+fascinated. Again he would come down on a burned point near the deep
+hole where I was fishing, and, hiding his body in the underbrush,
+would push his horns up into the bare branches of a withered shrub,
+so as to make them inconspicuous, and stand watching me. As long as he
+was quiet, it was impossible to see him there; but I could always make
+him start nervously by flashing a looking-glass, or flopping a fish in
+the water, or whistling a jolly Irish jig. And when I tied a bright
+tomato can to a string and set it whirling round my head, or set my
+handkerchief for a flag on the end of my trout rod, then he could not
+stand it another minute, but came running down to the shore, to stamp,
+and fidget, and stare nervously, and scare himself with twenty alarms
+while trying to make up his mind to swim out and satisfy his burning
+desire to know all about it. But I am forgetting the caribou schools.
+
+Wherever there are barrens--treeless plains in the midst of dense
+forest--the caribou collect in small herds as winter comes on,
+following the old gregarious instinct. Then each one cannot do as he
+pleases any more; and it is for this winter and spring life together,
+when laws must be known, and the rights of the individual be laid
+aside for the good of the herd, that the young are trained.
+
+One afternoon in late summer I was drifting down the Toledi River,
+casting for trout, when a movement in the bushes ahead caught my
+attention. A great swampy tract of ground, covered with grass and low
+brush, spread out on either side the stream. From the canoe I made out
+two or three waving lines of bushes where some animals were making
+their way through the swamp towards a strip of big timber which formed
+a kind of island in the middle.
+
+Pushing my canoe into the grass, I made for a point just astern of the
+nearest quivering line of bushes. A glance at a bit of soft ground
+showed me the trail of a mother caribou with her calf. I followed
+cautiously, the wind being ahead in my favor. They were not hurrying,
+and I took good pains not to alarm them.
+
+When I reached the timber and crept like a snake through the
+underbrush, there were the caribou, five or six mother animals, and
+nearly twice as many little ones, well grown, which had evidently just
+come in from all directions. They were gathered in a natural opening,
+fairly clear of bushes, with a fallen tree or two, which served a good
+purpose later. The sunlight fell across it in great golden bars,
+making light and shadow to play in; all around was the great marsh,
+giving protection from enemies; dense underbrush screened them from
+prying eyes--and this was their schoolroom.
+
+The little ones were pushed out into the middle, away from the
+mothers to whom they clung instinctively, and were left to get
+acquainted with each other, which they did very shyly at first, like
+so many strange children. It was all new and curious, this meeting of
+their kind; for till now they had lived in dense solitudes, each one
+knowing no living creature save its own mother. Some were timid, and
+backed away as far as possible into the shadow, looking with wild,
+wide eyes from one to another of the little caribou, and bolting to
+their mothers' sides at every unusual movement. Others were bold, and
+took to butting at the first encounter. But careful, kindly eyes
+watched over them. Now and then a mother caribou would come from the
+shadows and push a little one gently from his retreat under a bush out
+into the company. Another would push her way between two heads that
+lowered at each other threateningly, and say with a warning shake of
+her head that butting was no good way to get along together. I had
+once thought, watching a herd on the barrens through my glasses, that
+they are the gentlest of animals with each other. Here in the little
+school in the heart of the swamp I found the explanation of things.
+
+For over an hour I lay there and watched, my curiosity growing more
+eager every moment; for most of what I saw I could not comprehend,
+having no key, nor understanding why certain youngsters, who needed
+reproof according to my standards, were let alone, and others kept
+moving constantly, and still others led aside often to be talked to by
+their mothers. But at last came a lesson in which all joined, and
+which could not be misunderstood, not even by a man. It was the
+jumping lesson.
+
+Caribou are naturally poor jumpers. Beside a deer, who often goes out
+of his way to jump a fallen tree just for the fun of it, they have no
+show whatever; though they can travel much farther in a day and much
+easier. Their gait is a swinging trot, from which it is impossible to
+jump; and if you frighten them out of their trot into a gallop and
+keep them at it, they soon grow exhausted. Countless generations on
+the northern wastes, where there is no need of jumping, have bred this
+habit, and modified their muscles accordingly. But now a race of
+caribou has moved south into the woods, where great trees lie fallen
+across the way, and where, if Megaleep is in a hurry or there is
+anybody behind him, jumping is a necessity. Still he doesn't like it,
+and avoids it whenever possible. The little ones, left to themselves,
+would always crawl under a tree, or trot round it. And this is another
+thing to overcome, and another lesson to be taught in the caribou
+school.
+
+As I watched them the mothers all came out from the shadows and began
+trotting round the opening, the little ones keeping close as possible,
+each one to its mother's side. Then the old ones went faster; the
+calves were left in a long line stringing out behind. Suddenly the
+leader veered in to the edge of the timber and went over a fallen tree
+with a jump; the cows followed splendidly, rising on one side, falling
+gracefully on the other, like gray waves racing past the end of a
+jetty. But the first little one dropped his head obstinately at the
+tree and stopped short. The next one did the same thing; only he ran
+his head into the first one's legs and knocked them out from under
+him. The others whirled with a _ba-a-a-ah_, and scampered round the
+tree and up to their mothers, who had turned now and stood watching
+anxiously to see the effect of their lesson. Then it began over again.
+
+It was true kindergarten teaching; for under guise of a frolic the
+calves were being taught a needful lesson,--not only to jump, but, far
+more important than that, to follow a leader, and to go where he goes
+without question or hesitation. For the leaders on the barrens are
+wise old bulls that make no mistakes. Most of the little caribou took
+to the sport very well, and presently followed the mothers over the
+low hurdles. But a few were timid; and then came the most intensely
+interesting bit of the whole strange school, when a little one would
+be led to a tree and butted from behind till he took the jump.
+
+There was no "consent of the governed" in that governing. The mother
+knew, and the calf didn't, just what was good for him.
+
+It was this last lesson that broke up the school. Just in front of my
+hiding place a tree fell out into the opening. A mother caribou
+brought her calf up to this unsuspectingly, and leaped over, expecting
+the little one to follow. As she struck she whirled like a top and
+stood like a beautiful statue, her head pointing in my direction. Her
+eyes were bright with fear, the ears set forward, the nostrils spread
+to catch every tainted atom from the air. Then she turned and glided
+silently away, the little one close to her side, looking up and
+touching her frequently as if to whisper, _What is it? what is it?_
+but making no sound. There was no signal given, no alarm of any kind
+that I could understand; yet the lesson stopped instantly. The caribou
+glided away like shadows. Over across the opening a bush swayed here
+and there; a leaf quivered as if something touched its branch. Then
+the schoolroom was empty and the woods all still.
+
+There is another curious habit of Megaleep; and this one I am utterly
+at a loss to account for. When he is old and feeble, and the tireless
+muscles will no longer carry him with the herd over the wind-swept
+barrens, and he falls sick at last, he goes to a spot far away in the
+woods, where generations of his ancestors have preceded him, and there
+lays him down to die. It is the caribou burying ground; and all the
+animals of a certain district, or a certain herd (I am unable to tell
+which), will go there when sick or sore wounded, if they have strength
+enough to reach the spot. For it is far away from the scene of their
+summer homes and their winter wanderings.
+
+I know one such place, and visited it twice from my summer camp. It is
+in a dark tamarack swamp by a lonely lake at the head of the
+Little-South-West Miramichi River, in New Brunswick. I found it one
+summer when trying to force my way from the big lake to a smaller one,
+where trout were plenty. In the midst of the swamp I stumbled upon a
+pair of caribou skeletons, which surprised me; for there were no
+hunters within a hundred miles, and at that time the lake had lain for
+many years unvisited. I thought of fights between bucks, and bull
+moose, how two bulls will sometimes lock horns in a rush, and are too
+weakened to break the lock, and so die together of exhaustion.
+Caribou are more peaceable; they rarely fight that way; and, besides,
+the horns here were not locked together, but lying well apart. As I
+searched about, looking for the explanation of things, thinking of
+wolves, yet wondering why the bones were not gnawed, I found another
+skeleton, much older, then four or five more; some quite fresh, others
+crumbling into mould. Bits of old bone and some splendid antlers were
+scattered here and there through the underbrush; and when I scraped
+away the dead leaves and moss, there were older bones and fragments
+mouldering beneath.
+
+I scarcely understood the meaning of it at the time; but since then I
+have met men, Indians and hunters, who have spent much time in the
+wilderness, who speak of "bone yards" which they have discovered,
+places where they can go at any time and be sure of finding a good set
+of caribou antlers. And they say that the caribou go there to die.
+
+All animals, when feeble with age, or sickly, or wounded, have the
+habit of going away deep into the loneliest coverts, and there lying
+down where the leaves shall presently cover them. So that one rarely
+finds a dead bird or animal in the woods where thousands die yearly.
+Even your dog, that was born and lived by your house, often
+disappears when you thought him too feeble to walk. Death calls him
+gently; the old wolf stirs deep within him, and he goes away where the
+master he served will never find him. And so with your cat, which is
+only skin-deep a domestic animal; and so with your canary, which in
+death alone would be free, and beats his failing wings against the
+cage in which he lived so long content. But these all go away singly,
+each to his own place. The caribou is the only animal I know that
+remembers, when his separation comes, the ties which bound him to the
+herd winter after winter, through sun and storm, in the forest where
+all was peace and plenty, and on the lonely barrens where the gray
+wolf howled on his track; so that he turns with his last strength from
+the herd he is leaving to the greater herd which has gone before
+him--still following his leaders, remembering his first lesson to the
+end.
+
+Sometimes I have wondered whether this also were taught in the caribou
+school; whether once in his life Megaleep were led to the spot and
+made to pass through it, so that he should feel its meaning and
+remember. That is not likely; for the one thing which an animal cannot
+understand is death. And there were no signs of living caribou
+anywhere near the place that I discovered; though down at the other
+end of the lake their tracks were everywhere.
+
+There are other questions, which one can only ask without answering.
+Is this silent gathering merely a tribute to the old law of the herd,
+or does Megaleep, with his last strength, still think to cheat his old
+enemy, and go away where the wolf that followed him all his life shall
+not find him? How was his resting place first selected, and what
+leaders searched out the ground? What sound or sign, what murmur of
+wind in the pines, or lap of ripples on the shore, or song of the
+veery at twilight made them pause and say, _Here is the place_? How
+does he know, he whose thoughts are all of life, and who never looked
+on death, where the great silent herd is that no caribou ever sees but
+once? And what strange instinct guides Megaleep to the spot where all
+his wanderings end at last?
+
+
+
+
+II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE.
+
+[Illustration: Killooleet]
+
+
+The day was cold, the woods were wet, and the weather was beastly
+altogether when Killooleet first came and sang on my ridgepole. The
+fishing was poor down in the big lake, and there were signs of
+civilization here and there, in the shape of settlers' cabins, which
+we did not like; so we had pushed up river, Simmo and I, thirty miles
+in the rain, to a favorite camping ground on a smaller lake, where we
+had the wilderness all to ourselves.
+
+The rain was still falling, and the lake white-capped, and the forest
+all misty and wind-blown when we ran our canoes ashore by the old
+cedar that marked our landing place. First we built a big fire to
+dry some boughs to sleep upon; then we built our houses, Simmo a
+bark _commoosie_, and I a little tent; and I was inside, getting
+dry clothes out of a rubber bag, when I heard a white-throated
+sparrow calling cheerily his Indian name, _O hear, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!_ And the sound was so sunny, so good
+to hear in the steady drip of rain on the roof, that I went out to see
+the little fellow who had bid us welcome to the wilderness.
+
+Simmo had heard too. He was on his hands and knees, just his dark face
+peering by the corner stake of his _commoosie_, so as to see better
+the little singer on my tent.--"Have better weather and better luck
+now. Killooleet sing on ridgepole," he said confidently. Then we
+spread some cracker crumbs for the guest and turned in to sleep till
+better times.
+
+That was the beginning of a long acquaintance. It was also the first
+of many social calls from a whole colony of white-throats (Tom-Peabody
+birds) that lived on the mountain-side just behind my tent, and that
+came one by one to sing to us, and to get acquainted, and to share our
+crumbs. Sometimes, too, in rainy weather, when the woods seemed wetter
+than the lake, and Simmo would be sleeping philosophically, and I
+reading, or tying trout flies in the tent, I would hear a gentle stir
+and a rustle or two just outside, under the tent fly. Then, if I crept
+out quietly, I would find Killooleet exploring my goods to find where
+the crackers grew, or just resting contentedly under the fly where it
+was dry and comfortable.
+
+It was good to live there among them, with the mountain at our backs
+and the lake at our feet, and peace breathing in every breeze or
+brooding silently over the place at twilight. Rain or shine, day or
+night, these white-throated sparrows are the sunniest, cheeriest folk
+to be found anywhere in the woods. I grew to understand and love the
+Milicete name, Killooleet, Little Sweet-Voice, for its expressiveness.
+"Hour-Bird" the Micmacs call him; for they say he sings every hour,
+and so tells the time, "all same's one white man's watch." And indeed
+there is rarely an hour, day or night, in the northern woods when you
+cannot hear Killooleet singing. Other birds grow silent after they
+have won their mates, or they grow fat and lazy as summer advances, or
+absorbed in the care of their young, and have no time nor thought for
+singing. But not so Killooleet. He is kinder to his mate after he has
+won her, and never lets selfishness or the summer steal away his
+music; for he knows that the woods are brighter for his singing.
+
+Sometimes, at night, I would, take a brand from the fire, and follow a
+deer path that wound about the mountain, or steal away into a dark
+thicket and strike a parlor match. As the flame shot up, lighting its
+little circle of waiting leaves, there would be a stir beside me in
+the underbrush, or overhead in the fir; then tinkling out of the
+darkness, like a brook under the snow, would come the low clear strain
+of melody that always set my heart a-dancing,--_I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet_, the good-night song of my gentle
+neighbor. Then along the path a little way, and another match, and
+another song to make one better and his rest sweeter.
+
+By day I used to listen to them, hours long at a stretch, practicing
+to perfect their song. These were the younger birds, of course; and
+for a long time they puzzled me. Those who know Killooleet's song will
+remember that it begins with three clear sweet notes; but very few
+have observed the break between the second and third of these. I
+noticed, first of all, that certain birds would start the song twenty
+times in succession, yet never get beyond the second note. And when I
+crept up, to find out about it, I would find them sitting
+disconsolately, deep in shadow, instead of out in the light where they
+love to sing, with a pitiful little droop of wings and tail, and the
+air of failure and dejection in every movement. Then again these same
+singers would touch the third note, and always in such cases they
+would prolong the last trill, the _lillooleet-lillooleet_ (the
+_Peabody-Peabody_, as some think of it), to an indefinite length,
+instead of stopping at the second or third repetition, which is the
+rule with good singers. Then they would come out of the shadow, and
+stir about briskly, and sing again with an air of triumph.
+
+One day, while lying still in the underbrush watching a wood mouse,
+Killooleet, a fine male bird and a perfect singer, came and sang on a
+branch just over my head, not noticing me. Then I discovered that
+there is a trill, a tiny grace note or yodel, at the end of his second
+note. I listened carefully to other singers, as close as I could get,
+and found that it is always there, and is the one difficult part of
+the song. You must be very close to the bird to appreciate the beauty
+of this little yodel; for ten feet away it sounds like a faint cluck
+interrupting the flow of the third note; and a little farther away you
+cannot hear it at all.
+
+[Illustration: Killooleet]
+
+Whatever its object, Killooleet regards this as the indispensable part
+of his song, and never goes on to the third note unless he gets the
+second perfectly. That accounts for the many times when one hears only
+the first two notes. That accounts also for the occasional prolonged
+trill which one hears; for when a young bird has tried many times for
+his grace note without success, and then gets it unexpectedly, he is
+so pleased with himself that he forgets he is not Whippoorwill, who
+tries to sing as long as the brook without stopping, and so keeps up
+the final _lillooleet-lillooleet_ as long as he has an atom of breath
+left to do it with.
+
+But of all the Killooleets,--and there were many that I soon
+recognized, either by their songs, or by some peculiarity in their
+striped caps or brown jackets,--the most interesting was the one who
+first perched on my ridgepole and bade me welcome to his camping
+ground. I soon learned to distinguish him easily; his cap was very
+bright, and his white cravat very full, and his song never stopped at
+the second note, for he had mastered the trill perfectly. Then, too,
+he was more friendly and fearless than all the others. The morning
+after our arrival (it was better weather, as Simmo and Killooleet had
+predicted) we were eating breakfast by the fire, when he lit on the
+ground close by, and turned his head sidewise to look at us curiously.
+I tossed him a big crumb, which made him run away in fright; but when
+he thought we were not looking he stole back, touched, tasted, ate the
+whole of it. And when I threw him another crumb, he hopped to meet it.
+
+After that he came regularly to meals, and would look critically over
+the tin plate which I placed at my feet, and pick and choose daintily
+from the cracker and trout and bacon and porridge which I offered him.
+Soon he began to take bits away with him, and I could hear him, just
+inside the fringe of underbrush, persuading his mate to come too and
+share his plate. But she was much shyer than he; it was several days
+before I noticed her flitting in and out of the shadowy underbrush;
+and when I tossed her the first crumb, she flew away in a terrible
+fright. Gradually, however, Killooleet persuaded her that we were
+kindly, and she came often to meals; but she would never come near, to
+eat from my tin plate, till after I had gone away.
+
+Never a day now passed that one or both of the birds did not rest on
+my tent. When I put my head out, like a turtle out of his shell, in
+the early morning to look at the weather, Killooleet would look down
+from the projecting end of the ridgepole and sing good-morning. And
+when I had been out late on the lake, night-fishing, or following the
+inlet for beaver, or watching the grassy points for caribou, or just
+drifting along shore silently to catch the night sounds and smells of
+the woods, I would listen with childish anticipation for Killooleet's
+welcome as I approached the landing. He had learned to recognize the
+sounds of my coming, the rub of a careless paddle, the ripple of
+water under the bow, or the grating of pebbles on the beach; and with
+Simmo asleep, and the fire low, it was good to be welcomed back by a
+cheery little voice in the darkness; for he always sang when he heard
+me. Sometimes I would try to surprise him; but his sleep was too light
+and his ears too keen. The canoe would glide up to the old cedar and
+touch the shore noiselessly; but with the first crunch of gravel under
+my foot, or the rub of my canoe as I lifted it out, he would waken;
+and his song, all sweetness and cheer, _I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet_, would ripple out of the dark
+underbrush where his nest was.
+
+I am glad now to think that I never saw that nest, though it was
+scarcely ten yards from my tent, until after the young had flown, and
+Killooleet cared no more about it. I knew the bush in which it was,
+close by the deer path; could pick out from my fireplace the thick
+branch that sheltered it; for I often watched the birds coming and
+going. I have no doubt that Killooleet would have welcomed me there
+without fear; but his mate never laid aside her shyness about it,
+never went to it directly when I was looking, and I knew he would like
+me better if I respected her little secret.
+
+Soon, from the mate's infrequent visits, and from the amount of food
+which Killooleet took away with him, I knew she was brooding her eggs.
+And when at last both birds came together, and, instead of helping
+themselves hungrily, each took the largest morsel he could carry and
+hurried away to the nest, I knew that the little ones were come; and I
+spread the plate more liberally, and moved it away to the foot of the
+old cedar, where Killooleet's mate would not be afraid to come at any
+time.
+
+One day, not long after, as I sat at a late breakfast after the
+morning's fishing, there was a great stir in the underbrush. Presently
+Killooleet came skipping out, all fuss and feathers, running back and
+forth with an air of immense importance between the last bush and the
+plate by the cedar, crying out in his own way, "Here it is, here it
+is, all right, just by the old tree as usual. Crackers, trout, brown
+bread, porridge; come on, come on; don't be afraid. _He's_ here, but
+he won't harm. I know him. Come on, come on!"
+
+Soon his little gray mate appeared under the last bush, and after much
+circumspection came hopping towards the breakfast; and after her, in a
+long line, five little Killooleets, hopping, fluttering, cheeping,
+stumbling,--all in a fright at the big world, but all in a desperate
+hurry for crackers and porridge _ad libitum_; now casting hungry eyes
+at the plate under the old cedar, now stopping to turn their heads
+sidewise to see the big kind animal with only two legs, that
+Killooleet had told them about, no doubt, many times.
+
+After that we had often seven guests to breakfast, instead of two. It
+was good to hear them, the lively _tink, tink-a-tink_ of their little
+bills on the tin plate in a merry tattoo, as I ate my own tea and
+trout thankfully. I had only to raise my eyes to see them in a bobbing
+brown ring about my bounty; and, just beyond them, the lap of ripples
+on the beach, the lake glinting far away in the sunshine, and a bark
+canoe fretting at the landing, swinging, veering, nodding at the
+ripples, and beckoning me to come away as soon as I had finished my
+breakfast.
+
+Before the little Killooleets had grown accustomed to things, however,
+occurred the most delicious bit of our summer camping. It was only a
+day or two after their first appearance; they knew simply that crumbs
+and a welcome awaited them at my camp, but had not yet learned that
+the tin plate in the cedar roots was their special portion. Simmo had
+gone off at daylight, looking up beaver signs for his fall trapping. I
+had just returned from the morning fishing, and was getting breakfast,
+when I saw an otter come out into the lake from a cold brook over on
+the east shore. Grabbing a handful of figs, and some pilot bread from
+the cracker box, I paddled away after the otter; for that is an animal
+which one has small chance to watch nowadays. Besides, I had found a
+den over near the brook, and I wanted to find out, if possible, how a
+mother otter teaches her young to swim. For, though otters live much
+in the water and love it, the young ones are afraid of it as so many
+kittens. So the mother--
+
+But I must tell about that elsewhere. I did not find out that day; for
+the young were already good swimmers. I watched the den two or three
+hours from a good hiding place, and got several glimpses of the mother
+and the little ones. On the way back I ran into a little bay where a
+mother shelldrake was teaching her brood to dive and catch trout.
+There was also a big frog there that always sat in the same place, and
+that I used to watch. Then I thought of a trap, two miles away, which
+Simmo had set, and went to see if Nemox, the cunning fisher, who
+destroys the sable traps in winter, had been caught at his own game.
+So it was afternoon, and I was hungry, when I paddled back to camp. It
+occurred to me suddenly that Killooleet might be hungry too; for I had
+neglected to feed him. He had grown sleek and comfortable of late, and
+never went insect hunting when he could get cold fried trout and corn
+bread.
+
+I landed silently and stole up to the tent to see if he were exploring
+under the fly, as he sometimes did when I was away. A curious sound, a
+hollow _tunk, tunk, tunk, tunk-a-tunk_, grew louder as I approached. I
+stole to the big cedar, where I could see the fireplace and the little
+opening before my tent, and noticed first that I had left the cracker
+box open (it was almost empty) when I hurried away after the otter.
+The curious sound was inside, growing more eager every moment--_tunk,
+tunk, tunk-a-trrrrrrr-runk, tunk, tunk!_
+
+I crept on my hands and knees to the box, to see what queer thing had
+found his way to the crackers, and peeped cautiously over the edge.
+There were Killooleet, and Mrs. Killooleet, and the five little
+Killooleets, just seven hopping brown backs and bobbing heads, helping
+themselves to the crackers. And the sound of their bills on the empty
+box made the jolliest tattoo that ever came out of a camping kit.
+
+I crept away more cautiously than I had come, and, standing carelessly
+in my tent door, whistled the call I always used in feeding the birds.
+Like a flash Killooleet appeared on the edge of the cracker box,
+looking very much surprised. "I thought you were away; why, I thought
+you were away," he seemed to be saying. Then he clucked, and the
+_tunk-a-tunk_ ceased instantly. Another cluck, and Mrs. Killooleet
+appeared, looking frightened; then, one after another, the five little
+Killooleets bobbed up; and there they sat in a solemn row on the edge
+of the cracker box, turning their heads sidewise to see me better.
+
+"There!" said Killooleet, "didn't I tell you he wouldn't hurt you?"
+And like five winks the five little Killooleets were back in the box,
+and the _tunk-a-tunking_ began again.
+
+This assurance that they might do as they pleased, and help themselves
+undisturbed to whatever they found, seemed to remove the last doubt
+from the mind of even the little gray mate. After that they stayed
+most of the time close about my tent, and were never so far away, or
+so busy insect hunting, that they would not come when I whistled and
+scattered crumbs. The little Killooleets grew amazingly, and no
+wonder! They were always eating, always hungry. I took good pains to
+give them less than they wanted, and so had the satisfaction of
+feeding them often, and of finding their tin plate picked clean
+whenever I came back from fishing.
+
+Did the woods seem lonely to Killooleet when we paddled away at last
+and left the wilderness for another year? That is a question which I
+would give much, or watch long, to answer. There is always a regret at
+leaving a good camping ground, but I had never packed up so
+unwillingly before. Killooleet was singing, cheery as ever; but my own
+heart gave a minor chord of sadness to his trill that was not there
+when he sang on my ridgepole. Before leaving I had baked a loaf, big
+and hard, which I fastened with stakes at the foot of the old cedar,
+with a tin plate under it and a bark roof above, so that when it
+rained, and insects were hidden under the leaves, and their hunting
+was no fun because the woods were wet, Killooleet and his little ones
+would find food, and remember me. And so we paddled away and left him
+to the wilderness.
+
+A year later my canoe touched the same old landing. For ten months I
+had been in the city, where Killooleet never sings, and where the
+wilderness is only a memory. In the fall, on some long tramps, I had
+occasional glimpses of the little singer, solitary now and silent,
+stealing southward ahead of the winter. And in the spring he showed
+himself rarely in the underbrush on country roads, eager, restless,
+chirping, hurrying northward where the streams were clear and the big
+woods budding. But never a song in all that time; my ears were hungry
+for his voice as I leaped out to run eagerly to the big cedar. There
+were the stakes, and the tin plate, and the bark roof all crushed by
+the snows of winter. The bread was gone; what Killooleet had spared,
+Tookhees the wood mouse had eaten thankfully. I found the old tent
+poles and put up my house leisurely, a hundred happy memories
+thronging about me. In the midst of them came a call, a clear
+whistle,--and there he was, the same full cravat, the same bright cap,
+and the same perfect song to set my nerves a-tingling: _I'm here,
+sweet Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!_ And when I put crumbs by the
+old fireplace, he flew down to help himself, and went off with the
+biggest one, as of yore, to his nest by the deer path.
+
+
+
+
+III. KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY.
+
+[Illustration: Kagax]
+
+
+This is the story of one day, the last one, in the life of Kagax the
+Weasel, who turns white in winter, and yellow in spring, and brown in
+summer, the better to hide his villainy.
+
+It was early twilight when Kagax came out of his den in the rocks,
+under the old pine that lightning had blasted. Day and night were
+meeting swiftly but warily, as they always meet in the woods. The life
+of the sunshine came stealing nestwards and denwards in the peace of a
+long day and a full stomach; the night life began to stir in its
+coverts, eager, hungry, whining. Deep in the wild raspberry thickets a
+wood thrush rang his vesper bell softly; from the mountain top a night
+hawk screamed back an answer, and came booming down to earth, where
+the insects were rising in myriads. Near the thrush a striped chipmunk
+sat chunk-a-chunking his sleepy curiosity at a burned log which a bear
+had just torn open for red ants; while down on the lake shore a
+cautious _plash-plash_ told where a cow moose had come out of the
+alders with her calf to sup on the yellow lily roots and sip the
+freshest water. Everywhere life was stirring; everywhere cries, calls,
+squeaks, chirps, rustlings, which only the wood-dweller knows how to
+interpret, broke in upon the twilight stillness.
+
+Kagax grinned and showed all his wicked little teeth as the many
+voices went up from lake and stream and forest. "Mine, all mine--to
+kill," he snarled, and his eyes began to glow deep red. Then he
+stretched one sinewy paw after another, rolled over, climbed a tree,
+and jumped down from a swaying twig to get the sleep all out of him.
+
+Kagax had slept too much, and was mad with the world. The night
+before, he had killed from sunset to sunrise, and much tasting of
+blood had made him heavy. So he had slept all day long, only stirring
+once to kill a partridge that had drummed near his den and waked him
+out of sleep. But he was too heavy to hunt then, so he crept back
+again, leaving the bird untasted under the end of his own drumming
+log. Now Kagax was eager to make up for lost time; for all time is
+lost to Kagax that is not spent in killing. That is why he runs night
+and day, and barely tastes the blood of his victims, and sleeps only
+an hour or two of cat naps at a time--just long enough to gather
+energy for more evil doing.
+
+As he stretched himself again, a sudden barking and snickering came
+from a giant spruce on the hill just above. Meeko, the red squirrel,
+had discovered a new jay's nest, and was making a sensation over it,
+as he does over everything that he has not happened to see before. Had
+he known who was listening, he would have risked his neck in a
+headlong rush for safety; for all the wild things fear Kagax as they
+fear death. But no wild thing ever knows till too late that a weasel
+is near.
+
+Kagax listened a moment, a ferocious grin on his pointed face; then he
+stole towards the sound. "I intended to kill those young hares first,"
+he thought, "but this fool squirrel will stretch my legs better, and
+point my nose, and get the sleep out of me--There he is, in the big
+spruce!"
+
+Kagax had not seen the squirrel; but that did not matter; he can
+locate a victim better with his nose or ears than he can with his
+eyes. The moment he was sure of the place, he rushed forward without
+caution. Meeko was in the midst of a prolonged snicker at the scolding
+jays, when he heard a scratch on the bark below, turned, looked down,
+and fled with a cry of terror. Kagax was already halfway up the tree,
+the red fire blazing in his eyes.
+
+The squirrel rushed to the end of a branch, jumped to a smaller
+spruce, ran that up to the top; then, because his fright had made him
+forget the tree paths that ordinarily he knew very well, he sprang out
+and down to the ground, a clear fifty feet, breaking his fall by
+catching and holding for an instant a swaying fir tip on the way. Then
+he rushed pell-mell over logs and rocks, and through the underbrush to
+a maple, and from that across a dozen trees to another giant spruce,
+where he ran up and down desperately over half the branches, crossing
+and crisscrossing his trail, and dropped panting at last into a little
+crevice under a broken limb. There he crouched into the smallest
+possible space and watched, with an awful fear in his eyes, the rough
+trunk below.
+
+Far behind him came Kagax, grim, relentless, silent as death. He paid
+no attention to scratching claws nor swaying branches, never looking
+for the jerking red tip of Meeko's tail, nor listening for the loud
+thump of his feet when he struck the ground. A pair of brave little
+flycatchers saw the chase and rushed at the common enemy, striking him
+with their beaks, and raising an outcry that brought a score of
+frightened, clamoring birds to the scene. But Kagax never heeded. His
+whole being seemed to be concentrated in the point of his nose. He
+followed like a bloodhound to the top of the second spruce, sniffed
+here and there till he caught the scent of Meeko's passage through the
+air, ran to the end of a branch in the same direction and leaped to
+the ground, landing not ten feet from the spot where the squirrel had
+struck a moment before. There he picked up the trail, followed over
+logs and rocks to the maple, up to the third branch, and across fifty
+yards of intervening branches to the giant spruce where his victim sat
+half paralyzed, watching from his crevice.
+
+Here Kagax was more deliberate. Left and right, up and down he went
+with deadly patience, from the lowest branch to the top, a hundred
+feet above, following every cross and winding of the trail. A dozen
+times he stopped, went back, picked up the fresher trail, and went on
+again. A dozen times he passed within a few feet of his victim,
+smelling him strongly, but scorning to use his eyes till his nose had
+done its perfect work. So he came to the last turn, followed the last
+branch, his nose to the bark, straight to the crevice under the broken
+branch, where Meeko crouched shivering, knowing it was all over.
+
+There was a cry, that no one heeded in the woods; there was a flash
+of sharp teeth, and the squirrel fell, striking the ground with a
+heavy thump. Kagax ran down the trunk, sniffed an instant at the body
+without touching it, and darted away to the form among the ferns. He
+had passed it at daylight when he was too heavy for killing.
+
+Halfway to the lake, he stopped; a thrilling song from a dead spruce
+top bubbled out over the darkening woods. When a hermit thrush sings
+like that, his nest is somewhere just below. Kagax began twisting in
+and out like a snake among the bushes, till a stir in a tangle of
+raspberry vines, which no ears but his or an owl's would ever notice,
+made him shrink close to the ground and look up. The red fire blazed
+in his eyes again; for there was Mother Thrush just settling onto her
+nest, not five feet from his head.
+
+To climb the raspberry vines without shaking them, and so alarming the
+bird, was out of the question; but there was a fire-blasted tree just
+behind. Kagax climbed it stealthily on the side away from the bird,
+crept to a branch over the nest, and leaped down. Mother Thrush was
+preening herself sleepily, feeling the grateful warmth of her eggs and
+listening to the wonderful song overhead, when the blow came. Before
+she knew what it was, the sharp teeth had met in her brain. The
+pretty nest would never again wait for a brooding mother in the
+twilight.
+
+All the while the wonderful song went on; for the hermit thrush,
+pouring his soul out, far above on the dead spruce top, heard not a
+sound of the tragedy below.
+
+Kagax flung the warm body aside savagely, bit through the ends of the
+three eggs, wishing they were young thrushes, and leaped to the
+ground. There he just tasted the brain of his victim to whet his
+appetite, listened a moment, crouching among the dead leaves, to the
+melody overhead, wishing it were darker, so that the hermit would come
+down and he could end his wicked work. Then he glided away to the
+young hares.
+
+There were five of them in the form, hidden among the coarse brakes of
+a little opening. Kagax went straight to the spot. A weasel never
+forgets. He killed them all, one after another, slowly, deliberately,
+by a single bite through the spine, tasting only the blood of the last
+one. Then he wriggled down among the warm bodies and waited, his nose
+to the path by which Mother Hare had gone away. He knew well she would
+soon be coming back.
+
+Presently he heard her, _put-a-put_, _put-a-put_, hopping along the
+path, with a waving line of ferns to show just where she was. Kagax
+wriggled lower among his helpless victims; his eyes blazed red again,
+so red that Mother Hare saw them and stopped short. Then Kagax sat up
+straight among the dead babies and screeched in her face.
+
+The poor creature never moved a step; she only crouched low before her
+own door and began to shiver violently. Kagax ran up to her; raised
+himself on his hind legs so as to place his fore paws on her neck;
+chose his favorite spot behind the ears, and bit. The hare
+straightened out, the quivering ceased. A tiny drop of blood followed
+the sharp teeth on either side. Kagax licked it greedily and hurried
+away, afraid to spoil his hunt by drinking.
+
+But he had scarcely entered the woods, running heedlessly, when the
+moss by a great stone stirred with a swift motion. There was a squeak
+of fright as Kagax jumped forward like lightning--but too late.
+Tookhees, the timid little wood mouse, who was digging under the moss
+for twin-flower roots to feed his little ones, had heard the enemy
+coming, and dove headlong into his hole, just in time to escape the
+snap of Kagax's teeth.
+
+That angered the fiery little weasel like poking a stick at him. To be
+caught napping, or to be heard running through the woods, is more than
+he can possibly stand. His eyes fairly snapped as he began digging
+furiously. Below, he could hear a chorus of faint squeaks, the clamor
+of young wood mice for their supper. But a few inches down, and the
+hole doubled under a round stone, then vanished between two roots
+close together. Try as he would, Kagax could only wear his claws out,
+without making any progress. He tried to force his shoulders through;
+for a weasel thinks he can go anywhere. But the hole was too small.
+Kagax cried out in rage and took up the trail. A dozen times he ran it
+from the hole to the torn moss, where Tookhees had been digging roots,
+and back again; then, sure that all the wood mice were inside, he
+tried to tear his way between the obstinate roots. As well try to claw
+down the tree itself.
+
+All the while Tookhees, who always has just such a turn in his tunnel,
+and who knows perfectly when he is safe, crouched just below the
+roots, looking up with steady little eyes, like two black beads, at
+his savage pursuer, and listening in a kind of dumb terror to his
+snarls of rage.
+
+Kagax gave it up at last and took to running in circles. Wider and
+wider he went, running swift and silent, his nose to the ground,
+seeking other mice on whom to wreak his vengeance. Suddenly he struck
+a fresh trail and ran it straight to the clearing where a foolish
+field mouse had built a nest in a tangle of dry brakes. Kagax caught
+and killed the mother as she rushed out in alarm. Then he tore the
+nest open and killed all the little ones. He tasted the blood of one
+and went on again.
+
+The failure to catch the wood mouse still rankled in his head and kept
+his eyes bright red. Suddenly he turned from his course along the lake
+shore; he began to climb the ridge. Up and up he went, crossing a
+dozen trails that ordinarily he would have followed, till he came to
+where a dead tree had fallen and lodged against a big spruce, near the
+summit. There he crouched in the underbrush and waited.
+
+Up near the top of the dead tree, a pair of pine martens had made
+their den in the hollow trunk, and reared a family of young martens
+that drew Kagax's evil thoughts like a magnet. The marten belongs to
+the weasel's own family; therefore, as a choice bit of revenge, Kagax
+would rather kill him than anything else. A score of times he had
+crouched in this same place and waited for his chance. But the marten
+is larger and stronger every way than the weasel, and, though shyer,
+almost as savage in a fight. And Kagax was afraid.
+
+But to-night Kagax was in a more vicious mood than ever before; and a
+weasel's temper is always the most vicious thing in the woods. He
+stole forward at last and put his nose to the foot of the leaning
+tree. Two fresh trails went out; none came back. Kagax followed them
+far enough to be sure that both martens were away hunting; then he
+turned and ran like a flash up the incline and into the den.
+
+In a moment he came out, licking his chops greedily. Inside, the young
+martens lay just as they had been left by the mother; only they began
+to grow very cold. Kagax ran to the great spruce, along a branch into
+another tree; then to the ground by a dizzy jump. There he ran swiftly
+for a good half hour in a long diagonal down towards the lake,
+crisscrossing his trail here and there as he ran.
+
+Once more his night's hunting began, with greater zeal than before. He
+was hungry now; his nose grew keen as a brier for every trail. A faint
+smell stopped him, so faint that the keenest-nosed dog or fox would
+have passed without turning, the smell of a brooding partridge on her
+eggs. There she was, among the roots of a pine, sitting close and
+blending perfectly with the roots and the brown needles. Kagax moved
+like a shadow; his nose found the bird; before she could spring he was
+on her back, and his teeth had done their evil work. Once more he
+tasted the fresh brains with keen relish. He broke all the eggs, so
+that none else might profit by his hunting, and went on again.
+
+On some moist ground, under a hemlock, he came upon the fresh trail of
+a wandering hare--no simple, unsuspecting mother, coming back to her
+babies, but a big, strong, suspicious fellow, who knew how to make a
+run for his life. Kagax was still fresh and eager; here was game that
+would stretch his muscles. The red lust of killing flamed into his
+eyes as he jumped away on the trail.
+
+Soon, by the long distances between tracks, he knew that the hare was
+startled. The scent was fresher now, so fresh that he could follow it
+in the air, without putting his nose to the ground.
+
+Suddenly a great commotion sounded among the bushes just ahead, where
+a moment before all was still. The hare had been lying there, watching
+his back track to see what was following. When he saw the red eyes of
+Kagax, he darted away wildly. A few hundred yards, and the foolish
+hare, who could run far faster than his pursuer, dropped in the bushes
+again to watch and see if the weasel was still after him.
+
+Kagax was following, swiftly, silently. Again the hare bounded away,
+only to stop and scare himself into fits by watching his own trail
+till the red eyes of the weasel blazed into view. So it went on for a
+half hour, through brush and brake and swamp, till the hare had lost
+all his wits and began to run wildly in small circles. Then Kagax
+turned, ran the back track a little way, and crouched flat on the
+ground.
+
+In a moment the hare came tearing along on his own trail--straight
+towards the yellow-brown ball under a fern tip. Kagax waited till he
+was almost run over; then he sprang up and screeched. That ended the
+chase. The hare just dropped on his fore paws. Kagax jumped for his
+head; his teeth met; the hunger began to gnaw, and he drank his fill
+greedily.
+
+For a time the madness of the chase seemed to be in the blood he
+drank. Keener than ever to kill, he darted away on a fresh trail. But
+soon his feast began to tell; his feet grew heavy. Angry at himself,
+he lay down to sleep their weight away.
+
+Far behind him, under the pine by the partridge's nest, a long dark
+shadow seemed to glide over the ground. A pointed nose touched the
+leaves here and there; over, the nose a pair of fierce little eyes
+glowed deep red as Kagax's own. So the shadow came to the partridge's
+nest, passed over it, minding not the scent of broken eggs nor of the
+dead bird, but only the scent of the weasel, and vanished into the
+underbrush on the trail.
+
+Kagax woke with a start and ran on. A big bullfrog croaked down on the
+shore. Kagax stalked and killed him, leaving his carcass untouched
+among the lily pads. A dead pine in a thicket attracted his suspicion.
+He climbed it swiftly, found a fresh round hole, and tumbled in upon a
+mother bird and a family of young woodpeckers. He killed them all,
+tasting the brains again, and hunted the tree over for the father
+bird, the great black logcock that makes the wilderness ring with his
+tattoo. But the logcock heard claws on the bark and flew to another
+tree, making a great commotion in the darkness as he blundered along,
+but not knowing what it was that had startled him.
+
+So the night wore on, with Kagax killing in every thicket, yet never
+satisfied with killing. He thought longingly of the hard winter, when
+game was scarce, and he had made his way out over the snow to the
+settlement, and lived among the chicken coops. "Twenty big hens in one
+roost--that was killing," snarled Kagax savagely, as he strangled two
+young herons in their nest, while the mother bird went on with her
+frogging, not ten yards away among the lily pads, and never heard a
+rustle.
+
+Toward morning he turned homeward, making his way back in a circle
+along the top of the ridge where his den was, and killing as he went.
+He had tasted too much; his feet grew heavier than they had ever been
+before. He thought angrily that he would have to sleep another whole
+day. And to sleep a whole day, while the wilderness was just beginning
+to swarm with life, filled Kagax with snarling rage.
+
+A mother hare darted away from her form as the weasel's wicked eyes
+looked in upon her. Kagax killed the little ones and had started after
+the mother, when a shiver passed over him and he turned back to
+listen. He had been moving more slowly of late; several times he had
+looked behind him with the feeling that he was followed. He stole back
+to the hare's form and lay hidden, watching his back track. He
+shivered again. "If it were not stronger than I, it would not follow
+my trail," thought Kagax. The fear of a hunted thing came upon him. He
+remembered the marten's den, the strangled young ones, the two trails
+that left the leaning tree. "They must have turned back long ago,"
+thought Kagax, and darted away. His back was cold now, cold as ice.
+
+But his feet grew very heavy ere he reached his den. A faint light
+began to show over the mountain across the lake. Killooleet, the
+white-throated sparrow, saw it, and his clear morning song tinkled
+out of the dark underbrush. Kagax's eyes glowed red again; he stole
+toward the sound for a last kill. Young sparrows' brains are a dainty
+dish; he would eat his fill, since he must sleep all day. He found the
+nest; he had placed his fore paws against the tree that held it, when
+he dropped suddenly; the shivers began to course all over him. Just
+below, from a stub in a dark thicket, a deep _Whooo-hoo-hoo!_ rolled
+out over the startled woods.
+
+It was Kookooskoos, the great horned owl, who generally hunts only in
+the evening twilight, but who, with growing young ones to feed,
+sometimes uses the morning twilight as well. Kagax lay still as a
+stone. Over him the sparrows, knowing the danger, crouched low in
+their nest, not daring to move a claw lest the owl should hear.
+
+Behind him the same shadow that had passed over the partridge's nest
+looked into the hare's form with fierce red eyes. It followed Kagax's
+trail over that of the mother hare, turned back, sniffed the earth,
+and came hurrying silently along the ridge.
+
+[Illustration: Kookooskoos]
+
+Kagax crept stealthily out of the thicket. He had an awful fear now of
+his feet; for, heavy with the blood he had eaten, they would rustle
+the leaves, or scratch on the stones, that all night long they had
+glided over in silence. He was near his den now. He could see the old
+pine that lightning had blasted, towering against the sky over the
+dark spruces.
+
+Again the deep _Whooo-hoo-hoo_! rolled over the hillside. To Kagax,
+who gloats over his killing except when he is afraid, it became an
+awful accusation. "Who has killed where he cannot eat? who strangled a
+brooding bird? who murdered his own kin?" came thundering through the
+woods. Kagax darted for his den. His hind feet struck a rotten twig
+that they should have cleared; it broke with a sharp snap. In an
+instant a huge shadow swept down from the stub and hovered over the
+sound. Two fierce yellow eyes looked in upon Kagax, crouching and
+trying to hide under a fir tip.
+
+Kagax whirled when the eyes found him and two sets of strong curved
+claws dropped down from the shadow. With a savage snarl he sprang up,
+and his teeth met; but no blood followed the bite, only a flutter of
+soft brown feathers. Then one set of sharp claws gripped his head;
+another set met deep in his back. Kagax was jerked swiftly into the
+air, and his evil doing was ended forever.
+
+There was a faint rustle in the thicket as the shadow of Kookooskoos
+swept away to his nest. The long lithe form of a pine marten glided
+straight to the fir tip, where Kagax had been a moment before. His
+movements were quick, nervous, silent; his eyes showed like two drops
+of blood over his twitching nostrils. He circled swiftly about the end
+of the lost trail. His nose touched a brown feather, another, and he
+glided back to the fir tip. A drop of blood was soaking slowly into a
+dead leaf. The marten thrust his nose into it. One long sniff, while
+his eyes blazed; then he raised his head, cried out once savagely, and
+glided away on the back track.
+
+
+
+
+IV. KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT.
+
+[Illustration: Kookooskoos]
+
+
+Kookooskoos is the big brown owl, the _Bubo Virginianus_, or Great
+Horned Owl of the books. But his Indian name is best. Almost any night
+in autumn, if you leave the town and go out towards the big woods, you
+can hear him calling it, _Koo-koo-skoos, koooo, kooo_, down in the
+swamp.
+
+Kookooskoos is always catching the wrong rat. The reason is that he is
+a great hunter, and thinks that every furry thing which moves must be
+game; and so he is like the fool sportsman who shoots at a sound, or a
+motion in the bushes, before finding out what makes it. Sometimes the
+rat turns out to be a skunk, or a weasel; sometimes your pet cat; and,
+once in a lifetime, it is your own fur cap, or even your head; and
+then you feel the weight and the edge of Kookooskoos' claws. But he
+never learns wisdom by mistakes; for, spite of his grave appearance,
+he is excitable as a Frenchman; and so, whenever anything stirs in the
+bushes and a bit of fur appears, he cries out to himself, _A rat,
+Kookoo! a rabbit!_ and swoops on the instant.
+
+Rats and rabbits are his favorite food, by the way, and he never lets
+a chance go by of taking them into camp. I think I never climbed to
+his nest without finding plenty of the fur of both animals to tell of
+his skill in hunting.
+
+One evening in the twilight, as I came home from hunting in the big
+woods, I heard the sound of deer feeding just ahead. I stole forward
+to the edge of a thicket and stood there motionless, looking and
+listening intently. My cap was in my pocket, and only my head appeared
+above the low firs that sheltered me. Suddenly, without noise or
+warning of any kind, I received a sharp blow on the head from behind,
+as if some one had struck me with a thorny stick. I turned quickly,
+surprised and a good bit startled; for I thought myself utterly alone
+in the woods--and I was. There was nobody there. Not a sound, not a
+motion broke the twilight stillness. Something trickled on my neck; I
+put up my hand, to find my hair already wet with blood. More startled
+than ever, I sprang through the thicket, looking, listening everywhere
+for sight or sound of my enemy. Still no creature bigger than a wood
+mouse; no movement save that of nodding fir tips; no sound but the
+thumping of my own heart, and, far behind me, a sudden rush and a bump
+or two as the frightened deer broke away; then perfect stillness
+again, as if nothing had ever lived in the thickets.
+
+I was little more than a boy; and I went home that night more puzzled
+and more frightened than I have ever been, before or since, in the
+woods. I ran into the doctor's office on my way. He found three cuts
+in my scalp, and below them two shorter ones, where pointed things
+seemed to have been driven through to the bone. He looked at me
+queerly when I told my story. Of course he did not believe me, and I
+made no effort to persuade him. Indeed, I scarcely believed myself.
+But for the blood which stained my handkerchief, and the throbbing
+pain in my head, I should have doubted the reality of the whole
+experience.
+
+That night I started up out of sleep, some time towards morning, and
+said before I was half awake: "It was an _owl_ that hit you on the
+head--of course it was an owl!" Then I remembered that, years before,
+an older boy had a horned owl, which he had taken from a nest, and
+which he kept loose in a dark garret over the shed. None of us younger
+boys dared go up to the garret, for the owl was always hungry, and the
+moment a boy's head appeared through the scuttle the owl said _Hoooo!_
+and swooped for it. So we used to get acquainted with the big pet by
+pushing in a dead rat, or a squirrel, or a chicken, on the end of a
+stick, and climbing in ourselves afterwards.
+
+As I write, the whole picture comes back to me again vividly; the
+dark, cobwebby old garret, pierced here and there by a pencil of
+light, in which the motes were dancing; the fierce bird down on the
+floor in the darkest corner, horns up, eyes gleaming, feathers all
+a-bristle till he looked big as a bushel basket in the dim light,
+standing on his game with one foot and tearing it savagely to pieces
+with the other, snapping his beak and gobbling up feathers, bones and
+all, in great hungry mouthfuls; and, over the scuttle, two or three
+small boys staring in eager curiosity, but clinging to each other's
+coats fearfully, ready to tumble down the ladder with a yell at the
+first hostile demonstration.
+
+The next afternoon I was back in the big woods to investigate. Fifty
+feet behind the thicket where I had been struck was a tall dead stub
+overlooking a little clearing. "That's his watch tower," I thought.
+"While I was watching the deer, he was up there watching my head, and
+when it moved he swooped."
+
+I had no intention of giving him another flight at the same game, but
+hid my fur cap some distance out in the clearing, tied a long string
+to it, went back into the thicket with the other end of the string,
+and sat down to wait. A low _Whooo-hoo-hoo!_ came from across the
+valley to tell me I was not the only watcher in the woods.
+
+Towards dusk I noticed suddenly that the top of the old stub looked a
+bit peculiar, but it was some time before I made out a big owl sitting
+up there. I had no idea how long he had been there, nor whence he
+came. His back was towards me; he sat up very straight and still, so
+as to make himself just a piece, the tip end, of the stub. As I
+watched, he hooted once and bent forward to listen. Then I pulled on
+my string.
+
+With the first rustle of a leaf he whirled and poised forward, in the
+intense attitude an eagle takes when he sights the prey. On the
+instant he had sighted the cap, wriggling in and out among the low
+bushes, and swooped for it like an arrow. Just as he dropped his legs
+to strike, I gave a sharp pull, and the cap jumped from under him. He
+missed his strike, but wheeled like a fury and struck again. Another
+jerk, and again he missed. Then he was at the thicket where I stood;
+his fierce yellow eyes glared straight into mine for a startled
+instant, and he brushed me with his wings as he sailed away into the
+shadow of the spruces.
+
+Small doubt now that I had seen my assailant of the night before; for
+an owl has regular hunting grounds, and uses the same watch towers
+night after night. He had seen my head in the thicket, and struck at
+the first movement. Perceiving his mistake, he kept straight on over
+my head; so of course there was nothing in sight when I turned. As an
+owl's flight is perfectly noiseless (the wing feathers are wonderfully
+soft, and all the laminæ are drawn out into hair points, so that the
+wings never whirr nor rustle like other birds') I had heard nothing,
+though he passed close enough to strike, and I was listening intently.
+And so another mystery of the woods was made plain by a little
+watching.
+
+Years afterwards, the knowledge gained stood me in good stead in
+clearing up another mystery. It was in a lumber camp--always a
+superstitious place--in the heart of a Canada forest. I had followed a
+wandering herd of caribou too far one day, and late in the afternoon
+found myself alone at a river, some twenty miles from my camp, on the
+edge of the barren grounds. Somewhere above me I knew that a crew of
+lumbermen were at work; so I headed up river to find their camp, if
+possible, and avoid sleeping out in the snow and bitter cold. It was
+long after dark, and the moon was flooding forest and river with a
+wonderful light, when I at last caught sight of the camp. The click of
+my snowshoes brought a dozen big men to the door. At that moment I
+felt rather than saw that they seemed troubled and alarmed at seeing
+me alone; but I was too tired to notice, and no words save those of
+welcome were spoken until I had eaten heartily. Then, as I started out
+for another look at the wild beauty of the place under the moonlight,
+a lumberman followed and touched me on the shoulder.
+
+"Best not go far from camp alone, sir. 'T isn't above safe
+hereabouts," he said in a low voice. I noticed that he glanced back
+over his shoulder as he spoke.
+
+"But why?" I objected. "There's nothing in these woods to be afraid
+of."
+
+"Come back to camp and I'll tell you. It's warmer there," he said. And
+I followed to hear a strange story,--how "Andy there" was sitting on a
+stump, smoking his pipe in the twilight, when he was struck and cut on
+the head from behind; and when he sprang up to look, there was nothing
+there, nor any track save his own in the snow. The next night
+Gillie's fur cap had been snatched from his head, and when _he_ turned
+there was nobody in sight; and when he burst into camp, with all his
+wits frightened out of him, he could scarcely speak, and his face was
+deathly white. Other uncanny things had happened since, in the same
+way, and coupled with a bad accident on the river, which the men
+thought was an omen, they had put the camp into such a state of
+superstitious fear that no one ventured alone out of doors after
+nightfall.
+
+I thought of Kookooskoos and my own head, but said nothing. They would
+only have resented the suggestion.
+
+Next day I found my caribou, and returned to the lumber camp before
+sunset. At twilight there was Kookooskoos, an enormous fellow, looking
+like the end of a big spruce stub, keeping sharp watch over the
+clearing, and fortunately behind the camp where he could not see the
+door. I called the men and set them crouching in the snow under the
+low eaves.--"Stay there a minute and I'll show you the ghost." That
+was all I told them.
+
+Taking the skin of a hare which I had shot that day, I hoisted it
+cautiously on a stick, the lumbermen watching curiously. A slight
+scratch of the stick, a movement of the fur along the splits, then a
+great dark shadow shot over our heads. It struck the stick sharply
+and swept on and up into the spruces across the clearing, taking
+Bunny's skin with it.
+
+Then one big lumberman, who saw the point, jumped up with a yell and
+danced a jig in the snow, like a schoolboy. There was no need of
+further demonstration with a cap; and nobody volunteered his head for
+a final experiment; but all remembered seeing the owl on his nightly
+watch, and knew something of his swooping habits. Of course some were
+incredulous at first, and had a dozen questions and objections when we
+were in camp. No one likes to have a good ghost story spoiled; and,
+besides, where superstition is, there the marvelous is most easily
+believed. It is only the simple truth that is doubted. So I spent half
+the night in convincing them that they _had_ been brought up in the
+woods to be scared by an owl.
+
+Poor Kookooskoos! they shot him next night on his watch tower, and
+nailed him to the camp door as a warning.
+
+I discovered another curious thing about Kookooskoos that night when I
+watched to find out what had struck me. I found out why he hoots.
+Sometimes, if he is a young owl, he hoots for practice, or to learn
+how; and then he makes an awful noise of it, a rasping screech, before
+his voice deepens. And if you are camping near and are new to the
+woods, the chances are that you lie awake and shiver; for there is no
+other sound like it in the wilderness. Sometimes, when you climb to
+his nest, he has a terrifying _hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo_, running up
+and down a deep guttural scale, like a fiendish laugh, accompanied by
+a vicious snapping of the beak. And if you are a small boy, and it is
+towards twilight, you climb down the tree quick and let his nest
+alone. But the regular _whooo-hoo-hoo_, _whooo-hoo_, always five
+notes, with the second two very short, is a hunting call, and he uses
+it to alarm the game. That is queer hunting; but his ears account for
+it.
+
+If you separate the feathers on Kookooskoos' head, you will find an
+enormous ear-opening running from above his eye halfway round his
+face. And the ear within is so marvelously sensitive that it can hear
+the rustle of a rat in the grass, or the scrape of a sparrow's toes on
+a branch fifty feet away. So he sits on his watch tower, so still that
+he is never noticed, and as twilight comes on, when he can see best,
+he hoots suddenly and listens. The sound has a muffled quality which
+makes it hard to locate, and it frightens every bird and small animal
+within hearing; for all know Kookooskoos, and how fierce he is. As the
+terrifying sound rolls out of the air so near them, fur and feathers
+shiver with fright. A rabbit stirs in his form; a partridge shakes on
+his branch; the mink stops hunting frogs at the brook; the skunk takes
+his nose out of the hole where he is eating sarsaparilla roots. A leaf
+stirs, a toe scrapes, and instantly Kookooskoos is there. His fierce
+eyes glare in; his great claws drop; one grip, and it's all over. For
+the very sight of him scares the little creatures so, that there is no
+life left in them to cry out or to run away.
+
+A nest which I found a few years ago shows how well this kind of
+hunting succeeds. It was in a gloomy evergreen swamp, in a big tree,
+some eighty feet from the ground. I found it by a pile of pellets of
+hair and feathers at the foot of the tree; for the owl devours every
+part of his game, and after digestion is complete, feathers, bones,
+and hair are disgorged in small balls, like so many sparrow heads.
+When I looked up, there at the top was a huge mass of sticks, which
+had been added to year after year till it was nearly three feet
+across, and half as thick. Kookooskoos was not there. He had heard me
+coming and slipped away silently.
+
+Wishing to be sure the nest was occupied before trying the hard climb,
+I went away as far as I could see the nest and hid in a thicket.
+Presently a very large owl came back and stood by the nest. Soon
+after, a smaller bird, the male, glided up beside her. Then I came on
+cautiously, watching to see what they would do.
+
+At the first crack of a twig both birds started forward the male
+slipped away; the female dropped below the nest, and stood behind a
+limb, just her face peering through a crotch in my direction. Had I
+not known she was there, I might have looked the tree over twenty
+times without finding her. And there she stayed hidden till I was
+halfway up the tree.
+
+When I peered at last over the edge of the big nest, after a
+desperately hard climb, there was a bundle of dark gray down in a
+little hollow in the middle. It touched me at the time that the little
+ones rested on a feather bed pulled from the mother bird's own breast.
+I brushed the down with my fingers. Instantly two heads came up, fuzzy
+gray heads, with black pointed beaks, and beautiful hazel eyes, and a
+funny long pin-feather over each ear, which made them look like little
+wise old clerks just waked up. When I touched them again they
+staggered up and opened their mouths,--enormous mouths for such little
+fellows; then, seeing that I was an intruder, they tried to bristle
+their few pin-feathers and snap their beaks.
+
+They were fat as two aldermen; and no wonder. Placed around the edge
+of the big nest were a red squirrel, a rat, a chicken, a few frogs'
+legs, and a rabbit. Fine fare that, at eighty feet from the ground.
+Kookooskoos had had good hunting. All the game was partly eaten,
+showing I had disturbed their dinner; and only the hinder parts were
+left, showing that owls like the head and brains best. I left them
+undisturbed and came away; for I wanted to watch the young grow--which
+they did marvelously, and were presently learning to hoot. But I have
+been less merciful to the great owls ever since, thinking of the
+enormous destruction of game represented in raising two or three such
+young savages, year after year, in the same swamp.
+
+Once, at twilight, I shot a big owl that was sitting on a limb facing
+me, with what appeared to be an enormously long tail hanging below the
+limb. The tail turned out to be a large mink, just killed, with a
+beautiful skin that put five dollars into a boy's locker. Another time
+I shot one that sailed over me; when he came down, there was a ruffed
+grouse, still living, in his claws. Another time I could not touch one
+that I had killed for the overpowering odor which was in his feathers,
+showing that _Mephitis_, the skunk, never loses his head when
+attacked. But Kookooskoos, like the fox, cares little for such
+weapons, and in the spring, when game is scarce, swoops for and kills
+a skunk wherever he finds him prowling away from his den in the
+twilight.
+
+The most savage bit of his hunting that I ever saw was one dark winter
+afternoon, on the edge of some thick woods. I was watching a cat, a
+half-wild creature, that was watching a red squirrel making a great
+fuss over some nuts which he had hidden, and which he claimed somebody
+had stolen. Somewhere behind us, Kookooskoos was watching from a pine
+tree. The squirrel was chattering in the midst of a whirlwind of
+leaves and empty shells which he had thrown out on the snow from under
+the wall; behind him the cat, creeping nearer and nearer, had crouched
+with blazing eyes and quivering muscles, her whole attention fixed on
+the spring, when broad wings shot silently over my hiding place and
+fell like a shadow on the cat. One set of strong claws gripped her
+behind the ears; the others were fastened like a vise in the spine.
+Generally one such grip is enough; but the cat was strong, and at the
+first touch sprang away. In a moment the owl was after her, floating,
+hovering above, till the right moment came, when he dropped and struck
+again. Then the cat whirled and fought like a fury. For a few moments
+there was a desperate battle, fur and feathers flying, the cat
+screeching like mad, the owl silent as death. Then the great claws did
+their work. When I straightened up from my thicket, Kookooskoos was
+standing on his game, tearing off the flesh with his feet, and
+carrying it up to his mouth with the same movement, swallowing
+everything alike, as if famished.
+
+Over them the squirrel, which had whisked up a tree at the first
+alarm, was peeking with evil eyes over the edge of a limb, snickering
+at the blood-stained snow and the dead cat, scolding, barking,
+threatening the owl for having disturbed the search for his stolen
+walnuts.
+
+I caught that same owl soon after in a peculiar way. A farmer near by
+told me that an owl was taking his chickens regularly. Undoubtedly the
+bird had been driven southward by the severe winter, and had not taken
+up regular hunting grounds until he caught the cat. Then came the
+chickens. I set up a pole, on the top of which was nailed a bit of
+board for a platform. On the platform was fastened a small steel trap,
+and under it hung a dead chicken. The next morning there was
+Kookooskoos on the platform, one foot in the trap, at which he was
+pulling awkwardly. Owls, from their peculiar ways of hunting, are
+prone to light on stubs and exposed branches; and so Kookooskoos had
+used my pole as a watch tower before carrying off his game.
+
+There is another way in which he is easily fooled. In the early
+spring, when he is mating, and again in the autumn, when the young
+birds are well fed and before they have learned much, you can bring
+him close up to you by imitating his hunting call. In the wilderness,
+where these birds are plenty, I have often had five or six about me at
+once. You have only to go well out beyond your tent, and sit down
+quietly, making yourself part of the place. Give the call a few times,
+and if there is a young bird near with a full stomach, he will answer,
+and presently come nearer. Soon he is in the tree over your head, and
+if you keep perfectly still he will set up a great hooting that you
+have called him and now do not answer. Others are attracted by his
+calling; they come in silently from all directions; the outcry is
+startling. The call is more nervous, more eerie, much more terrifying
+close at hand than when heard in the distance. They sweep about like
+great dark shadows, hoo-hoo-hooing and frolicking in their own uncanny
+way; then go off to their separate watch towers and their hunting. But
+the chances are that you will be awakened with a start more than once
+in the night, as some inquisitive young owl comes back and gives the
+hunting call in the hope of finding out what the first summons was all
+about.
+
+
+
+
+V. CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG.
+
+[Illustration: Chigwooltz]
+
+
+I was watching for a bear one day by an alder point, when Chigwooltz
+came swimming in from the lily pads in great curiosity to see what I
+was doing under the alders. He was an enormous frog, dull green with a
+yellowish vest--which showed that he was a male--but with the most
+brilliant ear drums I had ever seen. They fairly glowed with
+iridescent color, each in its ring of bright yellow. When I tried to
+catch him (very quietly, for the bear was somewhere just above on the
+ridge) in order to examine these drums, he dived under the canoe and
+watched me from a distance.
+
+In front of me, in the shallow water along shore, four more large
+frogs were sunning themselves among the lily pads. I watched them
+carelessly while waiting for the bear. After an hour or two I noticed
+that three of these frogs changed their positions slightly, turning
+from time to time so as to warm the entire body at nature's fireplace.
+But the fourth was more deliberate and philosophical, thinking
+evidently that if he simply sat still long enough the sun would do the
+turning. When I came, about eleven o'clock, he was sitting on the
+shore by a green stone, his fore feet lapped by tiny ripples, the sun
+full on his back. For three hours, while I watched there, he never
+moved a muscle. Then the bear came, and I left him for more exciting
+things.
+
+Late in the afternoon I came back to get some of the big frogs for
+breakfast. Chigwooltz, he with the ear drums, was the first to see me,
+and came pushing his way among the lily pads toward the canoe. But
+when I dangled a red ibis fly in front of him, he dived promptly, and
+I saw his head come up by a black root, where he sat, thinking himself
+invisible, and watched me.
+
+Chigwooltz the second, he of the green stone and the patient
+disposition, was still sitting in the same place. The sun had turned
+round; it was now warming his other side. His all-day sun bath
+surprised me so that I let him alone, to see how long he would sit
+still, and went fishing for other frogs.
+
+Two big ones showed their heads among the pads some twenty feet apart.
+Pushing up so as to make a triangle with my canoe, I dangled a red
+ibis impartially between them. For two or three long minutes neither
+moved so much as an eyelid. Then one seemed to wake suddenly from a
+trance, or to be touched by an electric wire, for he came scrambling
+in a desperate hurry over the lily pads. Swimming was too slow; he
+jumped fiercely out of water at the red challenge, making a great
+splash and commotion.
+
+Fishing for big frogs, by the way, is no tame sport. The red seems to
+excite them tremendously, and they take the fly like a black salmon.
+
+But the moment the first frog started, frog number two waked up and
+darted forward, making less noise but coming more swiftly. The first
+frog had jumped once for the fly and missed it, when the other leaped
+upon him savagely, and a fight began, while the ibis lay neglected on
+a lily pad. They pawed and bit each other fiercely for several
+minutes; then the second frog, a little smaller than the other, got
+the grip he wanted and held it. He clasped his fore legs tight about
+his rival's neck and began to strangle him slowly. I knew well how
+strong Chigwooltz is in his forearms, and that his fightings and
+wrestlings are desperate affairs; but I did not know till then how
+savage he can be. He had gripped from behind by a clever dive, so as
+to use his weight when the right moment came. Tighter and tighter he
+hugged; the big frog's eyes seemed bursting from his head, and his
+mouth was forced slowly open. Then his savage opponent lunged upon him
+with his weight, and forced his head under water to finish him.
+
+The whole thing seemed scarcely more startling to the luckless big
+frog than to the watcher in the canoe. It was all so brutal, so
+deliberately planned! The smaller frog, knowing that he was no match
+for the other in strength, had waited cunningly till he was all
+absorbed in the red fly, and then stole upon him, intending to finish
+him first and the little red thing afterwards. He would have done it
+too; for the big frog was at his last gasp, when I interfered and put
+them both in my net.
+
+Meanwhile a third frog had come _walloping_ over the lily pads from
+somewhere out of sight, and grabbed the fly while the other two were
+fighting about it. It was he who first showed me a curious frog trick.
+When I lifted him from the water on the end of my line, he raised his
+hands above his head, as if he had been a man, and grasped the line,
+and tried to lift himself, hand over hand, so as to take the strain
+from his mouth.--And I could never catch another frog like that.
+
+Next morning, as I went to the early fishing, Chigwooltz, the
+patient, sat by the same stone, his fore feet at the edge of the same
+bronze lily leaf. At noon he was still there; in twenty-four hours at
+least he had not moved a muscle.
+
+At twilight I was following a bear along the shore. It was the
+restless season, when bears are moving constantly; scarcely a twilight
+passed that I did not meet one or more on their wanderings. This one
+was heading for the upper end of the lake, traveling in the shallow
+water near shore; and I was just behind him, stealing along in my
+canoe to see what queer thing he would do. He was in no hurry, as most
+other bears were, but went nosing along shore, acting much as a fat
+pig would in the same place. As he approached the alder point he
+stopped suddenly, and twisted his head a bit, and set his ears, as a
+dog does that sees something very interesting. Then he began to steal
+forward. Could it be--I shot my canoe forward--yes, it was Chigwooltz,
+still sitting by the green stone, with his eye, like Bunsby's, on the
+coast of Greenland. In thirty-two hours, to my knowledge, he had not
+stirred.
+
+Mooween the bear crept nearer; he was crouching now like a cat,
+stealing along in the soft mud behind Chigwooltz so as to surprise
+him. I saw him raise one paw slowly, cautiously, high above his head.
+Down it came, _souse_! sending up a shower of mud and water. And
+Chigwooltz the restful, who could sit still thirty-two hours without
+getting stiff in the joints, and then dodge the sweep of Mooween's
+paw, went splashing away _hippety-ippety_ over the lily pads to some
+water grass, where he said _K'tung!_ and disappeared for good.
+
+A few days later Simmo and I moved camp to a grove of birches just
+above the alder point. From behind my tent an old game path led down
+to the bay where the big frogs lived. There were scores of them there;
+the chorus at night, with its multitude of voices running from a
+whistling treble to deep, deep bass, was at times tremendous. It was
+here that I had the first good opportunity of watching frogs feeding.
+
+Chigwooltz, I found, is a perfect gourmand and a cannibal, eating,
+besides his regular diet of flies and beetles and water snails, young
+frogs, and crawfish, and turtles, and fish of every kind. But few have
+ever seen him at his hunting, for he is active only at night or on
+dark days.
+
+I used to watch them from the shore or from my canoe at twilight. Just
+outside the lily pads a shoal of minnows would be playing at the
+surface, or small trout would be rising freely for the night insects.
+Then, if you watched sharply, you would see gleaming points of light,
+the eyes of Chigwooltz, stealing out, with barely a ripple, to the
+edge of the pads. And then, when some big feeding trout drove the
+minnows or small fry close in, there would be a heavy plunge from the
+shadow of the pads; and you would hear Chigwooltz splashing if the
+fish were a larger one than he expected.
+
+That is why small frogs are so deadly afraid if you take them outside
+the fringe of lily pads. They know that big hungry trout feed in from
+the deeps, and that big frogs, savage cannibals every one, watch out
+from the shadowy fringe of water plants. If you drop a little frog
+there, in clear water, he will shoot in as fast as his frightened legs
+will drive him, swimming first on top to avoid fish, diving deep as he
+reaches the pads to avoid his hungry relatives; and so in to shallow
+water and thick stems, where he can dodge about and the big frogs
+cannot follow.
+
+All sorts and conditions of frogs lived in that little bay. There was
+one inquisitive fellow, who always came out of the pads and swam as
+near as he could get whenever I appeared on the shore. Another would
+sit in his favorite spot, under a stranded log, and let me come as
+close as I would; but the moment I dangled the red ibis fly in front
+of him, he would disappear like a wink, and not show himself again.
+Another would follow the fly in a wild kangaroo dance over the lily
+pads, going round and round the canoe as if bewitched, and would do
+his best to climb in after the bit of color when I pulled it up slowly
+over the bark. He afforded me so much good fun that I could not eat
+him; though I always stopped to give him another dance, whenever I
+went fishing for other frogs just like him. Further along shore lived
+another, a perfect savage, so wild that I could never catch him, which
+strangled or drowned two big frogs in a week, to my certain knowledge.
+And then, one night when I was trying to find my canoe which I had
+lost in the darkness, I came upon a frog migration, dozens and dozens
+of them, all hopping briskly in the same direction. They had left the
+stream, driven by some strange instinct, just like rats or squirrels,
+and were going through the woods to the unknown destination that
+beckoned them so strongly that they could not but follow.
+
+The most curious and interesting bit of their strange life came out at
+night, when they were fascinated by my light. I used sometimes to set
+a candle on a piece of board for a float, and place it in the water
+close to shore, where the ripples would set it dancing gently. Then I
+would place a little screen of bark at the shore end of the float,
+and sit down behind it in darkness.
+
+[Illustration: Chigwooltz]
+
+Presently two points of light would begin to shine, then to
+scintillate, out among the lily pads, and Chigwooltz would come
+stealing in, his eyes growing bigger and brighter with wonder. He
+would place his forearms akimbo on the edge of the float, and lift
+himself up a bit, like a little old man, and stare steadfastly at the
+light. And there he would stay as long as I let him, just staring and
+blinking.
+
+Soon two other points of light would come stealing in from the other
+side, and another frog would set his elbows on the float and stare
+hard across at the first-comer. And then two more shining points, and
+two more, till twelve or fifteen frogs were gathered about my beacon,
+as thick as they could find elbow room on the float, all staring and
+blinking like so many strange water owls come up from the bottom to
+debate weighty things, with a little flickering will-o'-the-wisp
+nodding grave assent in the midst of them. But never a word was
+spoken; the silence was perfect.
+
+Sometimes one, more fascinated or more curious than the others, would
+climb onto the float, and put his nose solemnly into the light. Then
+there would be a loud sizzle, a jump, and a splash; the candle would
+go out, and the wondering circle of frogs scatter to the lily pads
+again, all swimming as if in a trance, dipping their heads under water
+to wash the light from their bewildered eyes.
+
+They were quite fearless, almost senseless, at such times. I would
+stretch out my hand from the shadow, pick up an unresisting frog that
+threatened too soon to climb onto the float, and examine him at
+leisure. But Chigwooltz is wedded to his idols; the moment I released
+him he would go, fast as his legs could carry him, to put his elbows
+on the float and stare at the light again.
+
+Among the frogs, and especially among the toads, as among most wild
+animals, certain individuals attach themselves strongly to man, drawn
+doubtless by some unknown but no less strongly felt attraction. It was
+so there in the wilderness. The first morning after our arrival at the
+birch grove I was down at the shore, preparing a trout for baking in
+the ashes, when Chigwooltz, of the ear drums, biggest of all the
+frogs, came from among the lily pads. He had lost all fear apparently;
+he swam directly up to me, touching my hands with his nose, and even
+crawling out to my feet in the greatest curiosity.
+
+After that he took up his abode near the foot of the game path. I had
+only to splash the water there with my finger when he would come from
+beside a green stone, or from under a log or the lily pads--for he
+had a dozen hiding places--and swim up to me to be fed, or petted, or
+to have his back scratched.
+
+He ate all sorts of things, insects, bread, beef, game and fish,
+either raw or cooked. I would attach a bit of meat to a string or
+straw, and wiggle it before him, to make it seem alive. The moment he
+saw it (he had a queer way sometimes of staring hard at a thing
+without seeing it) he would crouch and creep towards it, nearer and
+nearer, softly and more softly, like a cat stalking a chipmunk. Then
+there would be a red flash and the meat would be gone. The red flash
+was his tongue, which is attached at the outer end and folds back in
+his mouth. It is, moreover, large and sticky, and he can throw it out
+and back like lightning. All you see is the red flash of it, and his
+game is gone.
+
+One day, to try the effects of nicotine on a new subject, I took a bit
+of Simmo's black tobacco and gave it to Chigwooltz. He ate it
+thankfully, as he did everything else I gave him. In a little while he
+grew uneasy, sitting up and rubbing his belly with his fore paws.
+Presently he brought his stomach up into his mouth, turned it inside
+out to get rid of the tobacco, washed it thoroughly in the lake,
+swallowed it down again, and was ready for his bread and beef. A most
+convenient arrangement that; and also a perfectly unbiased opinion on
+a much debated subject.
+
+Chigwooltz, unlike many of my pets, was not in the least dependent on
+my bounty. Indeed, he was a remarkable hunter on his own account, and
+what he took from me he took as hospitality, not charity. One morning
+he came to me with the tail of a small trout sticking out of his
+mouth. The rest of the fish was below, being digested. Another day,
+towards twilight, I saw him resting on the lily pads, looking very
+full, with a suspicious-looking object curling out over his under lip.
+I wiggled my finger in the water, and he came from pure sociability,
+for he was beyond eating any more. The suspicious-looking object
+proved to be a bird's foot, and beside it was a pointed wing tip. That
+was too much for my curiosity. I opened his mouth and pulled out the
+bird with some difficulty, for Chigwooltz had been engaged some time
+in the act of swallowing his game and had it well down. It proved to
+be a full-grown male swallow, without a mark anywhere to show how he
+had come by his death. Chigwooltz looked at me reproachfully, but
+swallowed his game promptly the moment I had finished examining it.
+
+There was small doubt in my mind that he had caught his bird fairly,
+by a quick spring as the swallow touched the water almost at his
+nose, near one of his numerous lurking places. Still it puzzled me a
+good deal till one early morning, when I saw him in broad daylight do
+a much more difficult thing than snapping up a swallow.
+
+I was coming down the game path to the shore when a bird, a tree
+sparrow I thought, flew to the ground just ahead of me, and hopped to
+the water to drink. I watched him a moment curiously, then with
+intense interest as I saw a ripple steal out of the lily pads towards
+him. The ripple was Chigwooltz.
+
+The sparrow had finished drinking and was absorbed in a morning bath.
+Chigwooltz stole nearer and nearer, sinking himself till only his eyes
+showed above water. The ripple that flowed away on either side was
+gentle as that of a floating leaf. Then, just as the bird had sipped
+and lifted its head for a last swallow, Chigwooltz hurled himself out
+of water. One snap of his big mouth, and the sparrow was done for.
+
+An hour later, when I came down to my canoe, he was sitting low on the
+lily pads, winking sleepily now and then, with eight little sparrow's
+toes curling over the rim of his under lip, like a hornpout's
+whiskers.
+
+
+
+
+VI. CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE.
+
+[Illustration: Old Whitehead]
+
+
+"Here he is again! here's Old Whitehead, robbing the fish-hawk."
+
+I started up from the little _commoosie_ beyond the fire, at Gillie's
+excited cry, and ran to join him on the shore. A glance out over
+Caribou Point to the big bay, where innumerable whitefish were
+shoaling, showed me another chapter in a long but always interesting
+story. Ismaquehs, the fish-hawk, had risen from the lake with a big
+fish, and was doing his best to get away to his nest, where his young
+ones were clamoring. Over him soared the eagle, still as fate and as
+sure, now dropping to flap a wing in Ismaquehs' face, now touching him
+with his great talons gently, as if to say, "Do you feel that,
+Ismaquehs? If I grip once 't will be the end of you and your fish
+together. And what will the little ones do then, up in the nest on
+the old pine? Better drop him peacefully; you can catch
+another.--_Drop him_! I say."
+
+[Illustration: Ismaquehs]
+
+Up to that moment the eagle had merely bothered the big hawk's flight,
+with a gentle reminder now and then that he meant no harm, but wanted
+the fish which he could not catch himself. Now there was a change, a
+flash of the king's temper. With a roar of wings he whirled round the
+hawk like a tempest, bringing up short and fierce, squarely in his
+line of flight. There he poised on dark broad wings, his yellow eyes
+glaring fiercely into the shrinking soul of Ismaquehs, his talons
+drawn hard back for a deadly strike. And Simmo the Indian, who had run
+down to join me, muttered: "Cheplahgan mad now. Ismaquehs find-um out
+in a minute."
+
+But Ismaquehs knew just when to stop. With a cry of rage he dropped,
+or rather threw, his fish, hoping it would strike the water and be
+lost. On the instant the eagle wheeled out of the way and bent his
+head sharply. I had seen him fold wings and drop before, and had held
+my breath at the speed. But dropping was of no use now, for the fish
+fell faster. Instead he swooped downward, adding to the weight of his
+fall the push of his strong wings, glancing down like a bolt to catch
+the fish ere it struck the water, and rising again in a great
+curve--up and away steadily, evenly as the king should fly, to his
+own little ones far away on the mountain.
+
+Weeks before, I had had my introduction to Old Whitehead, as Gillie
+called him, on the Madawaska. We were pushing up river on our way to
+the wilderness, when a great outcry and the _bang-bang_ of a gun
+sounded just ahead. Dashing round a wooded bend, we came upon a man
+with a smoking gun, a boy up to his middle in the river, trying to get
+across, and, on the other side, a black sheep running about _baaing_
+at every jump.
+
+"He's taken the lamb; he's taken the lamb!" shouted the boy. Following
+the direction of his pointing finger, I saw Old Whitehead, a splendid
+bird, rising heavily above the tree-tops across the clearing. Reaching
+back almost instinctively, I clutched the heavy rifle which Gillie put
+into my hand and jumped out of the canoe; for with a rifle one wants
+steady footing. It was a long shot, but not so very difficult; Old
+Whitehead had got his bearings and was moving steadily, straight away.
+A second after the report of the rifle, we saw him hitch and swerve in
+the air; then two white quills came floating down, and as he turned we
+saw the break in his broad white tail. And that was the mark that we
+knew him by ever afterwards.
+
+That was nearly eighty miles by canoe from where we now stood, though
+scarcely ten in a straight line over the mountains; for the rivers and
+lakes we were following doubled back almost to the starting point; and
+the whole wild, splendid country was the eagle's hunting ground.
+Wherever I went I saw him, following the rivers for stranded trout and
+salmon, or floating high in air where he could overlook two or three
+wilderness lakes, with as many honest fish-hawks catching their
+dinners. I had promised the curator of a museum that I would get him
+an eagle that summer, and so took to hunting the great bird
+diligently. But hunting was of little use, except to teach me many of
+his ways and habits; for he seemed to have eyes and ears all over him;
+and whether I crept like a snake through the woods, or floated like a
+wild duck in my canoe over the water, he always saw or heard me, and
+was off before I could get within shooting distance.
+
+Then I tried to trap him. I placed two large trout, with a steel trap
+between them, in a shallow spot on the river that I could watch from
+my camp on a bluff, half a mile below. Next day Gillie, who was more
+eager than I, set up a shout; and running out I saw Old Whitehead
+standing in the shallows and flopping about the trap. We jumped into a
+canoe and pushed up river in hot haste, singing in exultation that we
+had the fierce old bird at last. When we doubled the last point that
+hid the shallows, there was Old Whitehead, still tugging away at a
+fish, and splashing the water not thirty yards away. I shall not soon
+forget his attitude and expression as we shot round the point, his
+body erect and rigid, his wings half spread, his head thrust forward,
+eyelids drawn straight, and a strong fierce gleam of freedom and utter
+wildness in his bright eyes. So he stood, a magnificent creature, till
+we were almost upon him,--when he rose quietly, taking one of the
+trout. The other was already in his stomach. He was not in the trap at
+all, but had walked carefully round it. The splashing was made in
+tearing one fish to pieces with his claws, and freeing the other from
+a stake that held it.
+
+After that he would not go near the shallows; for a new experience had
+come into his life, leaving its shadow dark behind it. He who was king
+of all he surveyed from the old blasted pine on the crag's top, who
+had always heretofore been the hunter, now knew what it meant to be
+hunted. And the fear of it was in his eyes, I think, and softened
+their fierce gleam when I looked into them again, weeks later, by his
+own nest on the mountain.
+
+Simmo entered also into our hunting, but without enthusiasm or
+confidence. He had chased the same eagle before--all one summer, in
+fact, when a sportsman, whom he was guiding, had offered him twenty
+dollars for the royal bird's skin. But Old Whitehead still wore it
+triumphantly; and Simmo prophesied for him long life and a natural
+death. "No use hunt-um dat heagle," he said simply. "I try once an'
+can't get near him. He see everyt'ing; and wot he don't see, he hear.
+'Sides, he kin _feel_ danger. Das why he build nest way off, long
+ways, O don' know where." This last with a wave of his arm to include
+the universe. Cheplahgan, Old Cloud Wings, he proudly called the bird
+that had defied him in a summer's hunting.
+
+At first I had hunted him like any other savage; partly, of course, to
+get his skin for the curator; partly, perhaps, to save the settler's
+lambs over on the Madawaska; but chiefly just to kill him, to exult in
+his death flaps, and to rid the woods of a cruel tyrant. Gradually,
+however, a change came over me as I hunted; I sought him less and less
+for his skin and his life, and more and more for himself, to know all
+about him. I used to watch him by the hour from my camp on the big
+lake, sailing quietly over Caribou Point, after he had eaten with his
+little ones, and was disposed to let Ismaquehs go on with his fishing
+in peace. He would set his great wings to the breeze and sit like a
+kite in the wind, mounting steadily in an immense spiral, up and up,
+without the shadow of effort, till the eye grew dizzy in following.
+And I loved to watch him, so strong, so free, so sure of
+himself--round and round, up and ever up, without hurry, without
+exertion; and every turn found the heavens nearer and the earth spread
+wider below. Now head and tail gleam silver white in the sunshine now
+he hangs motionless, a cross of jet that a lady might wear at her
+throat, against the clear, unfathomable blue of the June
+heavens--there! he is lost in the blue, so high that I cannot see any
+more. But even as I turn away he plunges down into vision again,
+dropping with folded wings straight down like a plummet, faster and
+faster, larger and larger, through a terrifying rush of air, till I
+spring to my feet and catch the breath, as if I myself were falling.
+And just before he dashes himself to pieces he turns in the air, head
+downward, and half spreads his wings, and goes shooting, slanting down
+towards the lake, then up in a great curve to the tree tops, where he
+can watch better what Kakagos, the rare woods-raven, is doing, and
+what game he is hunting. For that is what Cheplahgan came down in such
+a hurry to find out about.
+
+Again he would come in the early morning; sweeping up river as if he
+had already been a long day's journey, with the air of far-away and
+far-to-go in his onward rush. And if I were at the trout pools, and
+very still, I would hear the strong silken rustle of his wings as he
+passed. At midday I would see him poised over the highest mountain-top
+northward, at an enormous altitude, where the imagination itself could
+not follow the splendid sweep of his vision; and at evening he would
+cross the lake, moving westward into the sunset on tireless
+pinions--always strong, noble, magnificent in his power and
+loneliness, a perfect emblem of the great lonely magnificent
+wilderness.
+
+One day as I watched him, it swept over me suddenly that forest and
+river would be incomplete without him. The thought of this came back
+to me, and spared him to the wilderness, on the last occasion when I
+went hunting for his life.
+
+That was just after we reached the big lake, where I saw him robbing
+the fish-hawk. After much searching and watching I found a great log
+by the outlet where Old Whitehead often perched. There was a big eddy
+hard by, on the edge of a shallow, and he used to sit on the log,
+waiting for fish to come out where he could wade in and get them.
+There was a sickness among the suckers that year (it comes regularly
+every few years, as among rabbits), and they would come struggling out
+of the deep water to rest on the sand, only to be caught by the minks
+and fish-hawks and bears and Old Whitehead, all of whom were waiting
+and hungry for fish.
+
+For several days I put a big bait of trout and whitefish on the edge
+of the shallows. The first two baits were put out late in the
+afternoon, and a bear got them both the next night. Then I put them
+out in the early morning, and before noon Cheplahgan had found them.
+He came straight as a string from his watch place over the mountain,
+miles away, causing me to wonder greatly what strange sixth sense
+guided him; for sight and smell seemed equally out of the question.
+The next day he came again. Then I placed the best bait of all in the
+shallows, and hid in the dense underbrush near, with my gun.
+
+He came at last, after hours of waiting, dropping from above the
+tree-tops with a heavy rustling of pinions. And as he touched the old
+log, and spread his broad white tail, I saw and was proud of the gap
+which my bullet had made weeks before. He stood there a moment erect
+and splendid, head, neck, and tail a shining white; even the dark
+brown feathers of his body glinted in the bright sunshine. And he
+turned his head slowly from side to side, his keen eyes flashing, as
+if he would say, "Behold, a king!" to Chigwooltz the frog, and
+Tookhees the wood mouse, and to any other chance wild creature that
+might watch him from the underbrush at his unkingly act of feeding on
+dead fish. Then he hopped down--rather awkwardly, it must be
+confessed; for he is a creature of the upper deeps, who cannot bear to
+touch the earth--seized a fish, which he tore to pieces with his claws
+and ate greedily. Twice I tried to shoot him; but the thought of the
+wilderness without him was upon me, and held me back. Then, too, it
+seemed so mean to pot him from ambush when he had come down to earth,
+where he was at a disadvantage; and when he clutched some of the
+larger fish in his talons, and rose swiftly and bore away westward,
+all desire to kill him was gone. There were little Cloud Wings, it
+seemed, which I must also find and watch. After that I hunted him more
+diligently than before, but without my gun. And a curious desire,
+which I could not account for, took possession of me: to touch this
+untamed, untouched creature of the clouds and mountains.
+
+Next day I did it. There were thick bushes growing along one end of
+the old log on which the eagle rested. Into these I cut a tunnel with
+my hunting-knife, arranging the tops in such a way as to screen me
+more effectively. Then I put out my bait, a good two hours before the
+time of Old Whitehead's earliest appearance, and crawled into my den
+to wait.
+
+I had barely settled comfortably into my place, wondering how long
+human patience could endure the sting of insects and the hot close air
+without moving or stirring a leaf, when the heavy silken rustle
+sounded close at hand, and I heard the grip of his talons on the log.
+There he stood, at arm's length, turning his head uneasily, the light
+glinting on his white crest, the fierce, untamed flash in his bright
+eye. Never before had he seemed so big, so strong, so splendid; my
+heart jumped at the thought of him as our national emblem. I am glad
+still to have seen that emblem once, and felt the thrill of it.
+
+But I had little time to think, for Cheplahgan was restless. Some
+instinct seemed to warn him of a danger that he could not see. The
+moment his head was turned away, I stretched out my arm. Scarcely a
+leaf moved with the motion, yet he whirled like a flash and crouched
+to spring, his eyes glaring straight into mine with an intensity that
+I could scarce endure. Perhaps I was mistaken, but in that swift
+instant the hard glare in his eyes seemed to soften with fear, as he
+recognized me as the one thing in the wilderness that dared to hunt
+him, the king. My hand touched him fair on the shoulder; then he shot
+into the air, and went sweeping in great circles over the tree-tops,
+still looking down at the man, wondering and fearing at the way in
+which he had been brought into the man's power.
+
+But one thing he did not understand. Standing erect on the log, and
+looking up at him as he swept over me, I kept thinking, "I did it, I
+did it, Cheplahgan, old Cloud Wings. And I had grabbed your legs, and
+pinned you down, and tied you in a bag, and brought you to camp, but
+that I chose to let you go free. And that is better than shooting you.
+Now I shall find your little ones and touch them too."
+
+For several days I had been watching Old Whitehead's lines of flight,
+and had concluded that his nest was somewhere in the hills northwest
+of the big lake. I went there one afternoon, and while confused in the
+big timber, which gave no outlook in any direction, I saw, not Old
+Whitehead, but a larger eagle, his mate undoubtedly, flying straight
+westward with food towards a great cliff, that I had noticed with my
+glass one day from a mountain on the other side of the lake.
+
+When I went there, early next morning, it was Cheplahgan himself who
+showed me where his nest was. I was hunting along the foot of the
+cliff when, glancing back towards the lake, I saw him coming far
+away, and hid in the underbrush. He passed very near, and following, I
+saw him standing on a ledge near the top of the cliff. Just below him,
+in the top of a stunted tree growing out of the face of the rock was a
+huge mass of sticks that formed the nest, with a great mother-eagle
+standing by, feeding the little ones. Both birds started away silently
+when I appeared, but came back soon and swept back and forth over me,
+as I sat watching the nest and the face of the cliff through my glass.
+No need now of caution. Both birds seemed to know instinctively why I
+had come, and that the fate of the eaglets lay in my hands if I could
+but scale the cliff.
+
+It was scaring business, that three-hundred-foot climb up the sheer
+face of the mountain. Fortunately the rock was seamed and scarred with
+the wear of centuries; bushes and stunted trees grew out of countless
+crevices, which gave me sure footing, and sometimes a lift of a dozen
+feet or more on my way up. As I climbed, the eagles circled lower and
+lower; the strong rustling of their wings was about my head
+continually; they seemed to grow larger, fiercer, every moment, as my
+hold grew more precarious, and the earth and the pointed tree-tops
+dropped farther below. There was a good revolver in my pocket, to use
+in case of necessity; but had the great birds attacked me I should
+have fared badly, for at times I was obliged to grip hard with both
+hands, my face to the cliff, leaving the eagles free to strike from
+above and behind. I think now that had I shown fear in such a place,
+or shouted, or tried to fray them away, they would have swooped upon
+me, wing and claw, like furies. I could see it in their fierce eyes as
+I looked up. But the thought of the times when I had hunted him, and
+especially the thought of that time when I had reached out of the
+bushes and touched him, was upon Old Whitehead and made him fear. So I
+kept steadily on my way, apparently giving no thought to the eagles,
+though deep inside I was anxious enough, and reached the foot of the
+tree in which the nest was made.
+
+I stood there a long time, my arm clasping the twisted old boll,
+looking out over the forest spread wide below, partly to regain
+courage, partly to reassure the eagles, which were circling very near
+with a kind of intense wonder in their eyes, but chiefly to make up my
+mind what to do next. The tree was easy to climb, but the nest--a huge
+affair, which had been added to year after year--filled the whole
+tree-top, and I could gain no foothold, from which to look over and
+see the eaglets, without tearing the nest to pieces. I did not want to
+do that, and I doubted whether the mother-eagle would stand it. A
+dozen times she seemed on the point of dropping on my head to tear it
+with her talons; but always she veered off as I looked up quietly, and
+Old Whitehead, with the mark of my bullet strong upon him, swept
+between her and me and seemed to say, "Wait, wait. I don't understand;
+but he can kill us if he will--and the little ones are in his power."
+Now he was closer to me than ever, and the fear was vanishing. But so
+also was the fierceness.
+
+From the foot of the tree the crevice in which it grew led upwards to
+the right, then doubled back to the ledge above the nest, upon which
+Cheplahgan was standing when I discovered him. The lip of this crevice
+made a dizzy path that one might follow by moving crabwise, his face
+to the cliff, with only its roughnesses to cling to with his fingers.
+I tried it at last, crept up and out twenty feet, and back ten, and
+dropped with a great breath of relief to a broad ledge covered with
+bones and fish scales, the relics of many a savage feast. Below me,
+almost within reach, was the nest, with two dark, scraggly young birds
+resting on twigs and grass, with fish, flesh and fowl in a gory,
+skinny, scaly ring about them--the most savage-looking household into
+which I ever looked unbidden.
+
+But even as I looked and wondered, and tried to make out what other
+game had been furnished the young savages I had helped to feed, a
+strange thing happened, which touched me as few things ever have among
+the wild creatures. The eagles had followed me close along the last
+edge of rock, hoping no doubt in their wild hearts that I would slip,
+and end their troubles, and give my body as food to the young. Now, as
+I sat on the ledge, peering eagerly into the nest, the great
+mother-bird left me and hovered over her eaglets, as if to shield them
+with her wings from even the sight of my eyes. But Old Whitehead still
+circled over me. Lower he came, and lower, till with a supreme effort
+of daring he folded his wings and dropped to the ledge beside me,
+within ten feet, and turned and looked into my eyes. "See," he seemed
+to say, "we are within reach again. You touched me once; I don't know
+how or why. Here I am now, to touch or to kill, as you will; only
+spare the little ones."
+
+A moment later the mother-bird dropped to the edge of the nest. And
+there we sat, we three, with the wonder upon us all, the young eagles
+at our feet, the cliff above, and, three hundred feet below, the
+spruce tops of the wilderness reaching out and away to the mountains
+beyond the big lake. I sat perfectly still, which is the only way to
+reassure a wild creature; and soon I thought Cheplahgan had lost his
+fear in his anxiety for the little ones. But the moment I rose to go
+he was in the air again, circling restlessly above my head with his
+mate, the same wild fierceness in his eyes as he looked down. A
+half-hour later I had gained the top of the cliff and started eastward
+towards the lake, coming down by a much easier way than that by which
+I went up. Later I returned several times, and from a distance watched
+the eaglets being fed. But I never climbed to the nest again.
+
+One day, when I came to the little thicket on the cliff where I used
+to lie and watch the nest through my glass, I found that one eaglet
+was gone. The other stood on the edge of the nest, looking down
+fearfully into the abyss, whither, no doubt, his bolder nest mate had
+flown, and calling disconsolately from time to time. His whole
+attitude showed plainly that he was hungry and cross and lonesome.
+Presently the mother-eagle came swiftly up from the valley, and there
+was food in her talons. She came to the edge of the nest, hovered over
+it a moment, so as to give the hungry eaglet a sight and smell of
+food, then went slowly down to the valley, taking the food with her,
+telling the little one in her own way to come and he should have it.
+He called after her loudly from the edge of the nest, and spread his
+wings a dozen times to follow. But the plunge was too awful; his heart
+failed him; and he settled back in the nest, and pulled his head down
+into his shoulders, and shut his eyes, and tried to forget that he was
+hungry. The meaning of the little comedy was plain enough. She was
+trying to teach him to fly, telling him that his wings were grown and
+the time was come to use them; but he was afraid.
+
+In a little while she came back again, this time without food, and
+hovered over the nest, trying every way to induce the little one to
+leave it. She succeeded at last, when with a desperate effort he
+sprang upward and flapped to the ledge above, where I had sat and
+watched him with Old Whitehead. Then, after surveying the world
+gravely from his new place, he flapped back to the nest, and turned a
+deaf ear to all his mother's assurances that he could fly just as
+easily to the tree-tops below, if he only would.
+
+Suddenly, as if discouraged, she rose well above him. I held my
+breath, for I knew what was coming. The little fellow stood on the
+edge of the nest, looking down at the plunge which he dared not take.
+There was a sharp cry from behind, which made him alert, tense as a
+watch-spring. The next instant the mother-eagle had swooped, striking
+the nest at his feet, sending his support of twigs and himself with
+them out into the air together.
+
+He was afloat now, afloat on the blue air in spite of himself, and
+flapped lustily for life. Over him, under him, beside him hovered the
+mother on tireless wings, calling softly that she was there. But the
+awful fear of the depths and the lance tops of the spruces was upon
+the little one; his flapping grew more wild; he fell faster and
+faster. Suddenly--more in fright, it seemed to me, than because he had
+spent his strength--he lost his balance and tipped head downward in
+the air. It was all over now, it seemed; he folded his wings to be
+dashed in pieces among the trees. Then like a flash the old
+mother-eagle shot under him; his despairing feet touched her broad
+shoulders, between her wings. He righted himself, rested an instant,
+found his head; then she dropped like a shot from under him, leaving
+him to come down on his own wings. A handful of feathers, torn out by
+his claws, hovered slowly down after them.
+
+It was all the work of an instant before I lost them among the trees
+far below. And when I found them again with my glass, the eaglet was
+in the top of a great pine, and the mother was feeding him.
+
+And then, standing there alone in the great wilderness, it flashed
+upon me for the first time just what the wise old prophet meant;
+though he wrote long ago, in a distant land, and another than Cloud
+Wings had taught her little ones, all unconscious of the kindly eyes
+that watched out of a thicket: "As the eagle stirreth up her nest,
+fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them,
+beareth them on her wings,--so the Lord."
+
+
+
+
+VII. UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW.
+
+[Illustration: Upweekis]
+
+
+"Long 'go, O long time 'go," so says Simmo the Indian, Upweekis the
+lynx came to Clote Scarpe one day with a complaint. "See," he said,
+"you are good to everybody but me. Pekquam the fisher is cunning and
+patient; he can catch what he will. Lhoks the panther is strong and
+tireless; nothing can get away from him, not even the great moose. And
+Mooween the bear sleeps all winter, when game is scarce, and in summer
+eats everything,--roots and mice and berries and dead fish and meat
+and honey and red ants. So he is always full and happy. But my eyes
+are no good; they are bright, like Cheplahgan the eagle's, yet they
+cannot see anything unless it moves; for you have made every creature
+that hides just like the place he hides in. My nose is worse; it
+cannot smell Seksagadagee the grouse, though I walk over him asleep
+in the snow. And my feet make a noise in the leaves, so that Moktaques
+the rabbit hears me, and hides, and laughs behind me when I go to
+catch him. And I am always hungry. Make me now like the shadows that
+play, in order that nothing may notice me when I go hunting."
+
+So Clote Scarpe, the great chief who was kind to all animals, gave
+Upweekis a soft gray coat that is almost invisible in the woods,
+summer or winter, and made his feet large, and padded them with soft
+fur; so that indeed he is like the shadows that play, for you can
+neither see nor hear him. But Clote Scarpe remembered Moktaques the
+rabbit also, and gave him two coats, a brown one for summer and a
+white one for winter. Consequently he is harder than ever to see when
+he is quiet; and Upweekis must still depend upon his wits to catch
+him. As Upweekis has few wits to spare, Moktaques often sees him close
+at hand, and chuckles in his form under the brown ferns, or sits up
+straight under the snow-covered hemlock tips, and watches the big lynx
+at his hunting.
+
+Sometimes, on a winter night, when you camp in the wilderness, and the
+snow is sifting down into your fire, and the woods are all still, a
+fierce screech breaks suddenly out of the darkness just behind your
+wind-break of boughs. You jump to your feet and grab your rifle; but
+Simmo, who is down on his knees before the fire frying pork, only
+turns his head to listen a moment, and says: "Upweekis catch-um rabbit
+dat time." Then he gets closer to the fire, for the screech was not
+pleasant, and goes on with his cooking.
+
+You are more curious than he, or you want the big cat's skin to take
+home with you. You steal away towards the cry, past the little
+_commoosie_, or shelter, that you made hastily at sundown when the
+trail ended. There, with your back to the fire and the _commoosie_
+between, the light does not dazzle your eyes; you can trace the
+shadows creeping in and out stealthily among the underbrush. But if
+Upweekis is there--and he probably is--you do not see him. He is a
+shadow among the shadows. Only there is this difference: shadows move
+no bushes. As you watch, a fir-tip stirs; a bit of snow drops down.
+You gaze intently at the spot. Then out of the deep shadow two living
+coals are suddenly kindled. They grow larger and larger, glowing,
+flashing, burning holes into your eyes till you brush them swiftly
+with your hand. A shiver runs over you, for to look into the eyes of
+a lynx at night, when the light catches them, is a scary experience.
+Your rifle jumps to position; the glowing coals are quenched on the
+instant. Then, when your eyes have blinked the fascination out of
+them, the shadows go creeping in and out again, and Upweekis is lost
+amongst them.
+
+Sometimes, indeed, you see him again. Moktaques, the big white hare,
+who forgets a thing the moment it is past, sees you standing there and
+is full of curiosity. He forgets that he was being hunted a moment
+ago, and comes hopping along to see what you are. You back away toward
+the fire. He scampers off in a fright, but presently comes hopping
+after you. Watch the underbrush behind him sharply. In a moment it
+stirs stealthily, as if a shadow were moving it; and there is the
+lynx, stealing along in the snow with his eyes blazing. Again
+Moktaques feels that he is hunted, and does the only safe thing; he
+crouches low in the snow, where a fir-tip bends over him, and is still
+as the earth. His color hides him perfectly.
+
+Upweekis has lost the trail again; he wavers back and forth, like a
+shadow under a swinging lamp, turning his great head from side to
+side. He cannot see nor hear nor smell his game; but he saw a bit of
+snow fly a moment ago, and knows that it came from Moktaques' big
+pads. Don't stir now; be still as the great spruce in whose shadow
+you stand; and, once in a hunter's lifetime perhaps, you will see a
+curious tragedy.
+
+The lynx settles himself in the snow, with all four feet close
+together, ready for a spring. As you watch and wonder, a screech rings
+out through the woods, so sharp and fierce that no rabbit's nerves can
+stand it close at hand and be still. Moktaques jumps straight up in
+the air. The lynx sees it, whirls, hurls himself at the spot. Another
+screech, a different one, and then you know that it's all over.
+
+And that is why Upweekis' cry is so fierce and sudden on a winter
+night. Your fire attracts the rabbits. Upweekis knows this, or is
+perhaps attracted himself and comes also, and hides among the shadows.
+But he never catches anything unless he blunders onto it. That is why
+he wanders so much in winter and passes twenty rabbits before he
+catches one. So when he knows that Moktaques is near, watching the
+light, but remaining himself invisible, Upweekis crouches for a
+spring; then he screeches fearfully. Moktaques hears it and is
+startled, as anybody else would be, hearing such a cry near him. He
+jumps in a fright and pays the penalty.
+
+If the lynx is a big one, and very hungry, as he generally is in
+winter, you may get some unpleasant impressions of him in another way
+when you venture far from your fire. His eyes blaze out at you from
+the darkness, just two big glowing spots, which are all you see, and
+which disappear at your first motion. Then as you strain your eyes,
+and watch and listen, you feel the coals upon you again from another
+place; and there they are, under a bush on your left, creeping closer
+and blazing deep red. They disappear suddenly as the lynx turns his
+head, only to reappear and fascinate you from another point. So he
+plays with you as if you were a great mouse, creeping closer all the
+time, swishing his stub tail fiercely to lash himself up to the
+courage point of springing. But his movements are so still and shadowy
+that unless he follows you as you back away to the fire, and so comes
+within the circle of light, the chances are that you will never see
+him.
+
+Indeed the chances are always that way, day or night, unless you turn
+hunter and set a trap for him in the rabbit paths which he follows
+nightly, and hang a bait over it to make him look up and forget his
+steps. In summer he goes to the burned lands for the rabbits that
+swarm in the thickets, and to rear his young in seclusion. You find
+his tracks there all about, and the marks of his killing; but though
+you watch and prowl all day and come home in the twilight, you will
+learn little. He hears you and skulks away amid the lights and
+shadows of the hillside, and so hides himself--in plain sight,
+sometimes, like a young partridge--that he manages to keep a clean
+record in the notebook where you hoped to write down all about him.
+
+In winter you cross his tracks, great round tracks that wander
+everywhere through the big woods, and you think: Now I shall find him
+surely. But though you follow for miles and learn much about him,
+finding where he passed this rabbit close at hand, without suspecting
+it, and caught that one by accident, and missed the partridge that
+burst out of the snow under his very feet,--still Upweekis himself
+remains only a shadow of the woods. Once, after a glorious long tramp
+on his trail, I found the spot where he had been sleeping a moment
+before. But beside that experience I must put fifty other trails that
+I have followed, of which I never saw the end nor the beginning. And
+whenever I have found out anything about Upweekis it has generally
+come unexpectedly, as most good things do.
+
+Once the chance came as I was watching a muskrat at his supper. It was
+twilight in the woods. I had drifted in close to shore in my canoe to
+see what Musquash was doing on top of a rock. All muskrats have
+favorite eating places--a rock, a stranded log, a tree boll that leans
+out over the water, and always a pretty spot--whither they bring food
+from a distance, evidently for the purpose of eating it where they
+feel most at home. This one had gathered a half dozen big fresh-water
+clams onto his dining table, and sat down in the midst to enjoy the
+feast. He would take a clam in his fore paws, whack it a few times on
+the rock till the shell cracked, then open it with his teeth and
+devour the morsel inside. He ate leisurely, tasting each clam
+critically before swallowing, and sitting up often to wash his
+whiskers or to look out over the lake. A hermit thrush sang
+marvelously sweet above him; the twilight colors glowed deep and
+deeper in the water below, where his shadow was clearly eating clams
+also, in the midst of heaven's splendor.--Altogether a pretty scene,
+and a moment of peace that I still love to remember. I quite forgot
+that Musquash is a villain. But the tragedy was near, as it always is
+in the wilderness. Suddenly a movement caught my eye on the bank
+above. Something was waving nervously under the bushes. Before I could
+make out what it was, there was a fearful rush, a gleam of wild yellow
+eyes, a squeak from the muskrat. Then Upweekis, looking gaunt and dark
+and strange in his summer coat, was crouched on the rock with Musquash
+between his great paws, growling fiercely as he cracked the bones. He
+bit his game all over, to make sure that it was quite dead, then took
+it by the back of the neck, glided into the bushes with his stub tail
+twitching, and became a shadow again.
+
+Another time I was perched up in a lodged tree, some twenty feet from
+the ground, watching a big bait of fish which I had put in an open
+spot for anything that might choose to come and get it. I was hoping
+for a bear, and so climbed above the ground that he might not get my
+scent should he come from leeward. It was early autumn, and my
+intentions were wholly peaceable. I had no weapon of any kind.
+
+Late in the afternoon something took to chasing a red squirrel near
+me. I heard them scurrying through the trees, but could see nothing.
+The chase passed out of hearing, and I had almost forgotten it, for
+something was moving in the underbrush near my bait, when back it came
+with a rush. The squirrel, half dead with fright, leaped from a
+spruce-tip to the ground, jumped onto the tree in which I sat, and
+raced up the incline, almost to my feet, where he sprang to a branch
+and sat chattering hysterically between two fears. After him came a
+pine marten, following swiftly, catching the scent of his game, not
+from the bark or the ground, but apparently from the air. Scarcely had
+he jumped upon my tree when there was a screech and a rush in the
+underbrush just below him, and out of the bushes came a young lynx to
+join in the chase. He missed the marten on the ground, but sprang to
+my tree like a flash. I remember still that the only sound I was
+conscious of at the time was the ripping of his nails in the dead
+bark. He had been seeking my bait undoubtedly--for it was a good lynx
+country, and Upweekis loves fish like a cat--when the chase passed
+under his nose and he joined it on the instant.
+
+Halfway up the incline the marten smelled me, or was terrified by the
+noise behind him and leaped aside. A branch upon which I was leaning
+swayed or snapped, and the lucivee stopped as if struck, crouching
+lower and lower against the tree, his big yellow expressionless eyes
+glaring straight into mine. A moment only he stood the steady look;
+then his eyes wavered; he turned his head, leaped for the underbrush,
+and was gone.
+
+Another moment and Meeko the squirrel had forgotten his fright and
+peril and everything else save his curiosity to find out who I was and
+all about me. He had to pass quite close to me to get to another tree,
+but anything was better than going back where the marten might be
+waiting; so he was presently over my head, snickering and barking to
+make me move, and scolding me soundly for disturbing the peace of the
+woods. In summer Upweekis is a solitary creature, rearing his young
+away back on the wildest burned lands, where game is plenty and where
+it is almost impossible to find him except by accident. In winter also
+he roams alone for the most part; but occasionally, when rabbits are
+scarce, as they are periodically in the northern woods, he gathers in
+small bands for the purpose of pulling down big game that he would
+never attack singly. Generally Upweekis is skulking and cowardly with
+man; but when driven by hunger (as I found out once) or when hunting
+in bands, he is a savage beast and must be followed cautiously.
+
+I had heard much of the fierceness of these hunting bands from
+settlers and hunters; and once a friend of mine, an old backwoodsman,
+had a narrow escape from them. He had a dog, Grip, a big brindled cur,
+of whose prowess in killing "varmints" he was always bragging, calling
+him the best "lucififer" dog in all Canada. Lucififer, by the way, is
+a local name for the lynx on the upper St. John, where Grip and his
+master lived.
+
+One day in winter the master missed a young heifer and went on his
+trail, with Grip and his axe for companions. Presently he came to lynx
+tracks, then to signs of a struggle, then plump upon six or seven of
+the big cats snarling savagely over the body of the heifer. Grip, the
+lucififer dog, rushed in blindly, and in two minutes was torn to
+ribbons. Then the lynxes came creeping and snarling towards the man,
+who backed away, shouting and swinging his axe. He killed one by a
+lucky blow, as it sprang for his chest. The others drove him to his
+own door; but he would never have reached it, so he told me, but for a
+long strip of open land that he had cleared back into the woods. He
+would face and charge the beasts, which seemed more afraid of his
+voice than of the axe, then run desperately to keep them from circling
+and getting between him and safety. When he reached the open strip
+they followed a little way along the edges of the underbrush, but
+returned one at a time when they were sure he had no further mind to
+disturb their feast or their fighting.
+
+It is curious that when Upweekis and his hunting pack pull down game
+in this way the first thing they do is to fight over it. There may be
+meat enough and to spare, but under their fearful hunger is the old
+beastly instinct for each one to grab all for himself; so they fall
+promptly to teeth and claws before the game is dead. The fightings at
+such times are savage affairs, both to the eye and ear. One forgets
+that Upweekis is a shadow, and thinks that he must be a fiend.
+
+One day in winter, when after caribou, I came upon a very large lynx
+track, the largest I have ever seen. It was two days old; but it led
+in my direction, toward the caribou barrens, and I followed it to see
+what I should see.
+
+Presently it joined four other lynx trails, and a mile farther on all
+five trails went forward in great flying leaps, each lynx leaving a
+hole in the snow as big as a bucket at every jump. A hundred yards of
+this kind of traveling and the trails joined another trail,--that of a
+wounded caribou from the barrens. His tracks showed that he had been
+traveling with difficulty on three legs. Here was a place where he had
+stood to listen; and there was another place where even untrained eyes
+might see that he had plunged forward with a start of fear. It was a
+silent story, but full of eager interest in every detail.
+
+The lucivee tracks now showed different tactics. They crossed and
+crisscrossed the trail, appearing now in front, now behind, now on
+either side the wounded bull, evidently closing in upon him warily.
+Here and there was a depression in the snow where one had crouched,
+growling, as the game passed. Then the struggle began. First, there
+was a trampled place in the snow where the bull had taken a stand and
+the big cats went creeping about him, waiting for a chance to
+spring all together. He broke away from that, but the three-legged
+gallop speedily exhausted him. Only when he trots is a caribou
+tireless. The lynxes followed the deadly cat-play began again. First
+one, then another leaped, only to be shaken off; then two, then all
+five were upon the poor brute, which still struggled forward. The
+record was written red all over the snow.
+
+[Illustration: The lynxes and caribou]
+
+As I followed it cautiously, a snarl sounded just ahead. I kicked off
+my snowshoes and circled noiselessly to the left, so as to look out
+over a little opening. There lay the stripped carcass of the caribou
+with two lynxes still upon it, growling fearfully at each other as
+they pulled at the bones. Another lynx crouched in the snow, under a
+bush, watching the scene. Two others circled about each other
+snarling, looking for an opening, but too well fed to care for a fight
+just then. Two or three foxes, a pine marten, and a fisher moved
+ceaselessly in and out, sniffing hungrily, and waiting for a chance to
+seize every scrap of bone or skin that was left unguarded for an
+instant. Above them a dozen moose birds kept the same watch
+vigilantly. As I stole nearer, hoping to get behind an old log where I
+could lie and watch the spectacle, some creature scurried out of the
+underbrush at one side. I was watching the movement, when a loud
+_kee-yaaah!_ startled me; I whirled towards the opening. From behind
+the old log a fierce round head with tasseled ears rose up, and the
+big lynx, whose trail I had first followed, sprang into sight snarling
+and spitting viciously.
+
+The feast stopped at the first alarm. The marten disappeared
+instantly. The foxes and the fisher and one lynx slunk away. Another,
+which I had not seen, stalked up to the carcass and put his fore paws
+upon it, and turned his savage head in my direction. Evidently other
+lynxes had come in to the kill beside the five I had followed. Then
+all the big cats crouched in the snow and stared at me steadily out of
+their wild yellow eyes.
+
+It was only for a moment. The big lynx on my side of the log was in a
+fighting temper; he snarled continuously. Another sprang over the log
+and crouched beside him, facing me. Then began a curious scene, of
+which I could not wait to see the end. The two lynxes hitched nearer
+and nearer to where I stood motionless, watching. They would creep
+forward a step or two, then crouch in the snow, like a cat warming her
+feet, and stare at me unblinkingly for a few moments. Then another
+hitch or two, which brought them nearer, and another stare. I could
+not look at one steadily, to make him waver; for the moment my eyes
+were upon him the others hitched closer; and already two more lynxes
+were coming over the log. I had to draw the curtain hastily with a
+bullet between the yellow eyes of the biggest lynx, and a second
+straight into the chest of his fellow-starer, just as he wriggled down
+into the snow for a spring. The others had leaped away snarling as the
+first heavy report rolled through the woods.
+
+Another time, in the same region, a solitary lynx made me
+uncomfortable for half an afternoon. It was Sunday, and I had gone for
+a snowshoe tramp, leaving my rifle behind me. On the way back to camp
+I stopped for a caribou head and skin, which I had _cached_ on the
+edge of a barren the morning before. The weather had changed; a bitter
+cold wind blew after me as I turned toward camp. I carried the head
+with its branching antlers on my shoulder; the skin hung down, to keep
+my back warm, its edges trailing in the snow.
+
+Gradually I became convinced that something was following me; but I
+turned several times without seeing anything. "It is only a fisher," I
+thought, and kept on steadily, instead of going back to examine my
+trail; for I was hoping for a glimpse of the cunning creature whose
+trail you find so often running side by side with your own, and who
+follows you if you have any trace of game about you, hour after hour
+through the wilderness, without ever showing himself in the light.
+Then I whirled suddenly, obeying an impulse; and there was Upweekis, a
+big, savage-looking fellow, just gliding up on my trail in plain
+sight, following the broad snowshoe track and the scent of the fresh
+caribou skin without difficulty, poor trailer though he be.
+
+He stopped and sat down on his feet, as a lucivee generally does when
+you surprise him, and stared at me steadily. When I went on again I
+knew that he was after me, though he had disappeared from the trail.
+
+Then began a double-quick of four miles, the object being to reach
+camp before night should fall and give the lucivee the advantage. It
+was already late enough to make one a bit uneasy. He knew that I was
+hurrying he grew bolder, showing himself openly on the trail behind
+me. I turned into an old swamping road, which gave me a bit of open
+before and behind. Then I saw him occasionally on either side, or
+crouching half hid until I passed. Clearly he was waiting for night;
+but to this day I am not sure whether it was the man or the caribou
+skin upon which he had set his heart. The scent of flesh and blood was
+in his nose, and he was too hungry to control himself much longer.
+
+I cut a good club with my big jack-knife, and, watching my chance,
+threw off the caribou head and jumped for him as he crouched in the
+snow. He leaped aside untouched, but crouched again instantly, showing
+all his teeth, snarling horribly. Three times I swung at him warily.
+Each time he jumped aside and watched for his opening; but I kept the
+club in play before his eyes, and it was not yet dark enough. Then I
+yelled in his face, to teach him fear, and went on again.
+
+Near camp I shouted for Simmo to bring my rifle; but he was slow in
+understanding, and his answering shout alarmed the savage creature
+near me. His movements became instantly more wary, more hidden. He
+left the open trail; and once, when I saw him well behind me, his head
+was raised high, listening. I threw down the caribou head to keep him
+busy, and ran for camp. In a few minutes I was stealing back again
+with my rifle; but Upweekis had felt the change in the situation and
+was again among the shadows, where he belongs. I lost his trail in the
+darkening woods.
+
+There was another lynx which showed me, one day, a different side to
+Upweekis' nature. It was in summer, when every creature in the
+wilderness seems an altogether different creature from the one you
+knew last winter, with new habits, new duties, new pleasures, and even
+a new coat to hide him better from his enemies. Opposite my island
+camp, where I halted a little while, in a summer's roving, was a
+burned ridge; that is, it had been burned over years before; now it
+was a perfect tangle, with many an open sunny spot, however, where
+berries grew by handfuls. Rabbits swarmed there, and grouse were
+plenty. As it was forty miles back from the settlements, it seemed a
+perfect place for Upweekis to make a den in. And so it was. I have no
+doubt there were a dozen litters of kittens on that two miles of
+ridge; but the cover was so dense that nothing smaller than a deer
+could be seen moving.
+
+For two weeks I hunted the ridge whenever I was not fishing, stealing
+in and out among the thickets, depending more upon ears than eyes, but
+seeing nothing of Upweekis, save here and there a trampled fern, or a
+blood-splashed leaf, with a bit of rabbit fur, or a great round cat
+track, to tell the story. Once I came upon a bear and two cubs among
+the berries; and once, when the wind was blowing down the hill, I
+walked almost up to a bull caribou without seeing him. He was watching
+my approach curiously, only his eyes, ears, and horns showing above
+the tangle where he stood. Down in the coverts it was always intensely
+still, with a stillness that I took good care not to break. So when
+the great brute whirled with a snort and a tremendous crash of
+bushes, almost under my nose, it raised my hair for a moment, not
+knowing what the creature was, nor which way he was heading. But
+though every day brought its experience, and its knowledge, and its
+new wonder at the ways of wild things, I found no trace of the den,
+nor of the kittens I had hoped to watch. All animals are silent near
+their little ones, so there was never a cry by night or day to guide
+me.
+
+Late one afternoon, when I had climbed to the top of the ridge and was
+on my way back to camp, I ran into an odor, the strong, disagreeable
+odor that always hovers about the den of a carnivorous animal. I
+followed it through a thicket, and came to an open stony place, with a
+sharp drop of five or six feet to dense cover below. The odor came
+from this cover, so I jumped down; when--_yeow, karrrr, pft-pft!_
+Almost under my feet a gray thing leaped away snarling, followed by
+another. I had the merest glimpse of them; but from the way they
+bristled and spit and arched their backs, I knew that I had stumbled
+upon a pair of the lynx kittens, for which I had searched so long in
+vain.
+
+They had, probably, been lying out on the warm stones, until, hearing
+strange footsteps, they had glided away to cover. When I crashed down
+near them they had been scared into showing their temper; else I had
+never seen them in the underbrush. Fortunately for me, the fierce old
+mother was away. Had she been there, I should undoubtedly have had
+more serious business on hand than watching her kittens.
+
+They had not seen more of me than my shoes and stockings; so when I
+stole after them, to see what they were like, they were waiting under
+a bush to see what I was like. They jumped away again, spitting,
+without seeing me, alarmed by the rustle which I could not avoid
+making in the cover. So I followed them, just a quiver of leaves here,
+a snarl there, and then a rush away, until they doubled back towards
+the rocky place, where, parting the underbrush cautiously, I saw a
+dark hole among the rocks of a little opening. The roots of an
+upturned tree arched over the hole, making a broad doorway. In this
+doorway stood two half-grown lucivees, fuzzy and gray and
+savage-looking, their backs still up, their wild eyes turned in my
+direction apprehensively. Seeing me they drew farther back into the
+den, and I saw nothing more of them save now and then their round
+heads, or the fire in their yellow eyes.
+
+It was too late for further observation that day. The fierce old
+mother lynx would presently be back; they would let her know of the
+intruder in some way; and they would all keep close in the den. I
+found a place, some dozen yards above, where it would be possible to
+watch them, marked the spot by a blasted stub, to which I made a
+compass of broken twigs; and then went back to camp.
+
+Next morning I omitted the early fishing, and was back at the place
+before the sun looked over the ridge. Their den was all quiet, in deep
+shadow. Mother Lynx was still away on the early hunting. I intended to
+kill her when she came back. My rifle lay ready across my knees. Then
+I would watch the kittens a little while, and kill them also. I wanted
+their skins, all soft and fine with their first fur. And they were too
+big and fierce to think of taking them alive. My vacation was over.
+Simmo was already packing up, to break camp that morning. So there
+would be no time to carry out my long-cherished plan of watching young
+lynxes at play, as I had before watched young foxes and bears and owls
+and fish-hawks, and indeed almost everything, except Upweekis, in the
+wilderness.
+
+Presently one of the lucivees came out, yawned, stretched, raised
+himself against a root. In the morning stillness I could hear the cut
+and rip of his claws on the wood. We call the action sharpening the
+claws; but it is only the occasional exercise of the fine flexor
+muscles that a cat uses so seldom, yet must use powerfully when the
+time comes. The second lucivee came out of the shadow a moment later
+and leaped upon the fallen tree where he could better watch the
+hillside below. For half an hour or more, while I waited expectantly,
+both animals moved restlessly about the den, or climbed over the roots
+and trunk of the fallen tree. They were plainly cross; they made no
+attempt at play, but kept well away from each other with a wholesome
+respect for teeth and claws and temper. Breakfast hour was long past,
+evidently, and they were hungry.
+
+Suddenly one, who was at that moment watching from the tree trunk,
+leaped down; the second joined him, and both paced back and forth
+excitedly. They had heard the sounds of a coming that were too fine
+for my ears. A stir in the underbrush, and Mother Lynx, a great savage
+creature, stalked out proudly. She carried a dead hare gripped across
+the middle of the back. The long ears on one side, the long legs on
+the other, hung limply, showing a fresh kill. She walked to the
+doorway of her den, crossed it back and forth two or three times,
+still carrying the hare as if the lust of blood were raging within her
+and she could not drop her prey even to her own little ones, which
+followed her hungrily, one on either side. Once, as she turned toward
+me, one of the kittens seized a leg of the hare and jerked it
+savagely. The mother whirled on him, growling deep down in her throat;
+the youngster backed away, scared but snarling. At last she flung the
+game down. The kittens fell upon it like furies, growling at each
+other, as I had seen the stranger lynxes growling once before over the
+caribou. In a moment they had torn the carcass apart and were
+crouched, each one over his piece, gnarling like a cat over a rat, and
+stuffing themselves greedily in utter forgetfulness of the mother
+lynx, which lay under a bush some distance away and watched them.
+
+In a half hour the savage meal was over. The little ones sat up,
+licked their chops, and began to tongue their broad paws. The mother
+had been blinking sleepily; now she rose and came to her young. A
+change had come over the family. The kittens ran to meet the dam as if
+they had not seen her before, rubbing softly against her legs, or
+sitting up to rub their whiskers against hers--a tardy thanks for the
+breakfast she had provided. The fierce old mother too seemed
+altogether different. She arched her back against the roots, purring
+loudly, while the little ones arched and purred against her sides.
+Then she bent her savage head and licked them fondly with her tongue,
+while they rubbed as close to her as they could get, passing between
+her legs as under a bridge, and trying to lick her face in return;
+till all their tongues were going at once and the family lay down
+together.
+
+It was time to kill them now. The rifle lay ready. But a change had
+come over the watcher too. Hitherto he had seen Upweekis as a
+ferocious brute, whom it was good to kill. This was altogether
+different. Upweekis could be gentle also, it seemed, and give herself
+for her little ones. And a bit of tenderness, like that which lay so
+unconscious under my eyes, gets hold of a man, and spikes his guns
+better than moralizing. So the watcher stole away, making as little
+noise as he could, following his compass of twigs to where the canoes
+lay ready and Simmo was waiting.
+
+Sometime, I hope, Simmo and I will camp there again, in winter. And
+then I shall listen with a new interest for a cry in the night which
+tells me that Moktaques the rabbit is hiding close at hand in the
+snow, where a young lynx of my acquaintance cannot find him.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE.
+
+[Illustration: Hukweem]
+
+
+Hukweem the loon must go through the world crying for what he never
+gets, and searching for one whom he never finds; for he is the
+hunting-dog of Clote Scarpe. So said Simmo to me one night in
+explaining why the loon's cry is so wild and sad.
+
+Clote Scarpe, by the way, is the legendary hero, the Hiawatha of the
+northern Indians. Long ago he lived on the Wollastook, and ruled the
+animals, which all lived peaceably together, understanding each
+other's language, and "nobody ever ate anybody," as Simmo says. But
+when Clote Scarpe went away they quarreled, and Lhoks the panther and
+Nemox the fisher took to killing the other animals. Malsun the wolf
+soon followed, and ate all he killed; and Meeko the squirrel, who
+always makes all the mischief he can, set even the peaceable animals
+by the ears, so that they feared and distrusted each other. Then they
+scattered through the big woods, living each one for himself; and now
+the strong ones kill the weak, and nobody understands anybody any
+more.
+
+There were no dogs in those days. Hukweem was Clote Scarpe's hunting
+companion when he hunted the great evil beasts that disturbed the
+wilderness; and Hukweem alone, of all the birds and animals, remained
+true to his master. For hunting makes strong friendship, says Simmo;
+and that is true. Therefore does Hukweem go through the world, looking
+for his master and calling him to come back. Over the tree-tops, when
+he flies low looking for new waters; high in air, out of sight, on his
+southern migrations; and on every lake where he is only a voice, the
+sad night voice of the vast solitary unknown wilderness--everywhere
+you hear him seeking. Even on the seacoast in winter, where he knows
+Clote Scarpe cannot be--for Clote Scarpe hates the sea--Hukweem
+forgets himself, and cries occasionally out of pure loneliness.
+
+When I asked what Hukweem says when he cries--for all cries of the
+wilderness have their interpretation--Simmo answered: "Wy, he say two
+ting. First he say, _Where are you? O where are you_? Dass what you
+call-um his laugh, like he crazy. Denn, wen nobody answer, he say, _O
+I so sorry, so sorry_! _Ooooo-eee_! like woman lost in woods. An'
+dass his tother cry."
+
+[Illustration: Hukweem]
+
+This comes nearer to explaining the wild unearthliness of Hukweem's
+call than anything else I know. It makes things much simpler to
+understand, when you are camped deep in the wilderness, and the night
+falls, and out of the misty darkness under the farther shore comes a
+wild shivering call that makes one's nerves tingle till he finds out
+about it--_Where are you? O where are you?_ That is just like Hukweem.
+
+Sometimes, however, he varies the cry, and asks very plainly: "Who are
+you? O who are you?" There was a loon on the Big Squattuk lake, where
+I camped one summer, which was full of inquisitiveness as a blue jay.
+He lived alone at one end of the lake, while his mate, with her brood
+of two, lived at the other end, nine miles away. Every morning and
+evening he came close to my camp--very much nearer than is usual, for
+loons are wild and shy in the wilderness--to cry out his challenge.
+Once, late at night, I flashed a lantern at the end of the old log
+that served as a landing for the canoes, where I had heard strange
+ripples; and there was Hukweem, examining everything with the greatest
+curiosity.
+
+Every unusual thing in our doings made him inquisitive to know all
+about it. Once, when I started down the lake with a fair wind, and a
+small spruce set up in the bow of my canoe for a sail, he followed me
+four or five miles, calling all the way. And when I came back to camp
+at twilight with a big bear in the canoe, his shaggy head showing over
+the bow, and his legs up over the middle thwart, like a little old
+black man with his wrinkled feet on the table, Hukweem's curiosity
+could stand it no longer. He swam up within twenty yards, and circled
+the canoe half a dozen times, sitting up straight on his tail by a
+vigorous use of his wings, stretching his neck like an inquisitive
+duck, so as to look into the canoe and see what queer thing I had
+brought with me.
+
+He had another curious habit which afforded him unending amusement.
+There was a deep bay on the west shore of the lake, with hills rising
+abruptly on three sides. The echo here was remarkable; a single shout
+brought a dozen distinct answers, and then a confusion of tongues as
+the echoes and re-echoes from many hills met and mingled. I discovered
+the place in an interesting way.
+
+One evening at twilight, as I was returning to camp from exploring the
+upper lake, I heard a wild crying of loons on the west side. There
+seemed to be five or six of the great divers, all laughing and
+shrieking like so many lunatics. Pushing over to investigate, I
+noticed for the first time the entrance to a great bay, and paddled up
+cautiously behind a point, so as to surprise the loons at their game.
+For they play games, just as crows do. But when I looked in, there was
+only one bird, Hukweem the Inquisitive. I knew him instantly by his
+great size and beautiful markings. He would give a single sharp call,
+and listen intently, with head up, swinging from side to side as the
+separate echoes came ringing back from the hills. Then he would try
+his cackling laugh, _Ooo-áh-ha-ha-ha-hoo, ooo-áh-ha-ha-ha-hoo_, and as
+the echoes began to ring about his head he would get excited, sitting
+up on his tail, flapping his wings, cackling and shrieking with glee
+at his own performance. Every wild syllable was flung back like a shot
+from the surrounding hills, till the air seemed full of loons, all
+mingling their crazy cachinnations with the din of the chief
+performer. The uproar made one shiver. Then Hukweem would cease
+suddenly, listening intently to the warring echoes. Before the
+confusion was half ended he would get excited again, and swim about in
+small circles, spreading wings and tail, showing his fine feathers as
+if every echo were an admiring loon, pleased as a peacock with himself
+at having made such a noise in a quiet world.
+
+There was another loon, a mother bird, on a different lake, whose two
+eggs had been carried off by a thieving muskrat; but she did not know
+who did it, for Musquash knows how to roll the eggs into water and
+carry them off, before eating, where the mother bird will not find the
+shells. She came swimming down to meet us the moment our canoe entered
+the lake; and what she seemed to cry was, "Where are they? O where are
+they?" She followed us across the lake, accusing us of robbery, and
+asking the same question over and over.
+
+But whatever the meaning of Hukweem's crying, it seems to constitute a
+large part of his existence. Indeed, it is as a cry that he is chiefly
+known--the wild, unearthly cry of the wilderness night. His education
+for this begins very early. Once I was exploring the grassy shores of
+a wild lake when a mother loon appeared suddenly, out in the middle,
+with a great splashing and crying. I paddled out to see what was the
+matter. She withdrew with a great effort, apparently, as I approached,
+still crying loudly and beating the water with her wings. "Oho," I
+said, "you have a nest in there somewhere, and now you are trying to
+get me away from it." This was the only time I have ever known a loon
+to try that old mother bird's trick. Generally they slip off the nest
+while the canoe is yet half a mile away, and swim under water a long
+distance, and watch you silently from the other side of the lake.
+
+I went back and hunted awhile for the nest among the bogs of a little
+bay; then left the search to investigate a strange call that sounded
+continuously farther up the shore. It came from some hidden spot in
+the tall grass, an eager little whistling cry, reminding me somehow of
+a nest of young fish-hawks.
+
+As I waded cautiously among the bogs, trying to locate the sound, I
+came suddenly upon the loon's nest--just the bare top of a bog, where
+the mother bird had pulled up the grass and hollowed the earth enough
+to keep the eggs from rolling out. They were there on the bare ground,
+two very large olive eggs with dark blotches. I left them undisturbed
+and went on to investigate the crying, which had stopped a moment as I
+approached the nest.
+
+Presently it began again behind me, faint at first, then louder and
+more eager, till I traced it back to Hukweem's household. But there
+was nothing here to account for it, only two innocent-looking eggs on
+top of a bog. I bent over to examine them more closely. There, on the
+sides, were two holes, and out of the holes projected the points of
+two tiny bills. Inside were two little loons, crying at the top of
+their lungs, "Let me out! O let me out! It's hot in here. Let me
+out--_Oooo-eee! pip-pip-pip_!"
+
+But I left the work of release to the mother bird, thinking she knew
+more about it. Next day I went back to the place, and, after much
+watching, saw two little loons stealing in and out among the bogs,
+exulting in their freedom, but silent as two shadows. The mother bird
+was off on the lake, fishing for their dinner.
+
+Hukweem's fishing is always an interesting thing to watch.
+Unfortunately he is so shy that one seldom gets a good opportunity.
+Once I found his favorite fishing ground, and came every day to watch
+him from a thicket on the shore. It was of little use to go in a
+canoe. At my approach he would sink deeper and deeper in the water, as
+if taking in ballast. How he does this is a mystery; for his body is
+much lighter than its bulk of water. Dead or alive, it floats like a
+cork; yet without any perceptible motion, by an effort of will
+apparently, he sinks it out of sight. You are approaching in your
+canoe, and he moves off slowly, swinging his head from side to side so
+as to look at you first with one eye, then with the other. Your canoe
+is swift; he sees that you are gaining, that you are already too near.
+He swings on the water, and sits watching you steadily. Suddenly he
+begins to sink, deeper and deeper, till his back is just awash. Go a
+little nearer, and now his body disappears; only his neck and head
+remain above water. Raise your hand, or make any quick motion, and he
+is gone altogether. He dives like a flash, swims deep and far, and
+when he comes to the surface will be well out of danger.
+
+If you notice the direction of his bill as it enters the water, you
+can tell fairly well about where he will come up again. It was
+confusing at first, in chasing him, to find that he rarely came up
+where he was expected. I would paddle hard in the direction he was
+going, only to find him far to the right or left, or behind me, when
+at last he showed himself. That was because I followed his body, not
+his bill. Moving in one direction, he will turn his head and dive.
+That is to mislead you, if you are following him. Follow his bill, as
+he does himself, and you will be near him when he rises; for he rarely
+turns under water.
+
+With two good men to paddle, it is not difficult to tire him out.
+Though he swims with extraordinary rapidity under water--fast enough
+to follow and catch a trout--a long deep dive tires him, and he must
+rest before another. If you are chasing him, shout and wave your hat
+the moment he appears, and paddle hard the way his bill points as he
+dives again. The next time he comes up you are nearer to him. Send him
+down again quick, and after him. The next time he is frightened to see
+the canoe so close, and dives deep, which tires him the more. So his
+disappearances become shorter and more confused; you follow him more
+surely because you can see him plainly now as he goes down. Suddenly
+he bursts out of water beside you, scattering the spray into your
+canoe. Once he came up under my paddle, and I plucked a feather from
+his back before he got away.
+
+This last appearance always scares him out of his wits, and you get
+what you have been working hard for--a sight of Hukweem getting under
+way. Away he goes in a smother of spray, beating the water with his
+wings, kicking hard to lift himself up; and so for a hundred yards,
+leaving a wake like a stern-wheel steamer, till he gathers headway
+enough to rise from the water.
+
+After that first start there is no sign of awkwardness. His short
+wings rise and fall with a rapidity that tries the eye to follow, like
+the rush of a coot down wind to decoys. You can hear the swift, strong
+beat of them, far over your head, when he is not calling. His flight
+is very rapid, very even, and often at enormous altitudes. But when he
+wants to come down he always gets frightened, thinking of his short
+wings, and how high he is, and how fast he is going. On the ocean, in
+winter, where he has all the room he wants, he sometimes comes down in
+a great incline, miles long, and plunges through and over a dozen
+waves, like a dolphin, before he can stop. But where the lake is
+small, and he cannot come down that way, he has a dizzy time of it.
+
+Once, on a little lake in September, I used to watch for hours to get
+a sight of the process. Twelve or fifteen loons were gathered there,
+holding high carnival. They called down every migrating loon that
+passed that way; their numbers increased daily. Twilight was the
+favorite time for arriving. In the stillness I would hear Hukweem far
+away, so high that he was only a voice. Presently I would see him
+whirling over the lake in a great circle.--"Come down, O come down,"
+cry all the loons. "I'm afraid, _ooo-ho-ho-ho-ho-hoooo-eee_, I'm
+afraid," says Hukweem, who is perhaps a little loon, all the way from
+Labrador on his first migration, and has never come down from a height
+before. "Come on, O come _oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-hon_. It won't hurt you; we
+did it; come on," cry all the loons.
+
+Then Hukweem would slide lower with each circle, whirling round and
+round the lake in a great spiral, yelling all the time, and all the
+loons answering. When low enough, he would set his wings and plunge
+like a catapult at the very midst of the assembly, which scattered
+wildly, yelling like schoolboys--"Look out! he'll break his neck;
+he'll hit you; he'll break your back if he hits you."--So they
+splashed away in a desperate fright, each one looking back over his
+shoulder to see Hukweem come down, which he would do at a terrific
+pace, striking the water with a mighty splash, and shooting half
+across the lake in a smother of white, before he could get his legs
+under him and turn around. Then all the loons would gather round him,
+cackling, shrieking, laughing, with such a din as the little loon
+never heard in his life before; and he would go off in the midst of
+them, telling them, no doubt, what a mighty thing it was to come down
+from so high and not break his neck.
+
+A little later in the fall I saw those same loons do an astonishing
+thing. For several evenings they had been keeping up an unusual racket
+in a quiet bay, out of sight of my camp. I asked Simmo what he thought
+they were doing.--"O, I don' know, playin' game, I guess, jus' like
+one boy. Hukweem do dat sometime, wen he not hungry," said Simmo,
+going on with his bean-cooking. That excited my curiosity; but when I
+reached the bay it was too dark to see what they were playing.
+
+One evening, when I was fishing at the inlet, the racket was different
+from any I had heard before. There would be an interval of perfect
+silence, broken suddenly by wild yelling; then the ordinary loon talk
+for a few minutes, and another silence, broken by a shriller outcry.
+That meant that something unusual was going on, so I left the trout,
+to find out about it.
+
+When I pushed my canoe through the fringe of water-grass on the point
+nearest the loons, they were scattered in a long line, twelve or
+fifteen of them, extending from the head of the bay to a point nearly
+opposite me. At the other end of the line two loons were swimming
+about, doing something which I could not make out. Suddenly the loon
+talk ceased. There may have been a signal given, which I did not hear.
+Anyway, the two loons faced about at the same moment and came tearing
+down the line, using wings and feet to help in the race. The upper
+loons swung in behind them as they passed, so as to watch the finish
+better; but not a sound was heard till they passed my end of the line
+in a close, hard race, one scarcely a yard ahead of the other, when
+such a yelling began as I never heard before. All the loons gathered
+about the two swimmers; there was much cackling and crying, which grew
+gradually quieter; then they began to string out in another long line,
+and two more racers took their places at one end of it. By that time
+it was almost dark, and I broke up the race trying to get nearer in my
+canoe so as to watch things better. Twice since then I have heard
+from summer campers of their having seen loons racing across a lake. I
+have no doubt it is a frequent pastime with the birds when the summer
+cares for the young are ended, and autumn days are mellow, and fish
+are plenty, and there are long hours just for fun together, before
+Hukweem moves southward for the hard solitary winter life on the
+seacoast.
+
+Of all the loons that cried out to me in the night, or shared the
+summer lakes with me, only one ever gave me the opportunity of
+watching at close quarters. It was on a very wild lake, so wild that
+no one had ever visited it before in summer, and a mother loon felt
+safe in leaving the open shore, where she generally nests, and placing
+her eggs on a bog at the head of a narrow bay. I found them there a
+day or two after my arrival.
+
+I used to go at all hours of the day, hoping the mother would get used
+to me and my canoe, so that I could watch her later, teaching her
+little ones; but her wildness was unconquerable. Whenever I came in
+sight of the nest-bog, with only the loon's neck and head visible,
+standing up very straight and still in the grass, I would see her slip
+from the nest, steal away through the green cover to a deep place, and
+glide under water without leaving a ripple. Then, looking sharp over
+the side into the clear water, I would get a glimpse of her, just a
+gray streak with a string of silver bubbles, passing deep and swift
+under my canoe. So she went through the opening, and appeared far out
+in the lake, where she would swim back and forth, as if fishing, until
+I went away. As I never disturbed her nest, and always paddled away
+soon, she thought undoubtedly that she had fooled me, and that I knew
+nothing about her or her nest.
+
+Then I tried another plan. I lay down in my canoe, and had Simmo
+paddle me up to the nest. While the loon was out on the lake, hidden
+by the grassy shore, I went and sat on a bog, with a friendly alder
+bending over me, within twenty feet of the nest, which was in plain
+sight. Then Simmo paddled away, and Hukweem came back without the
+slightest suspicion. As I had supposed, from the shape of the nest,
+she did not sit on her two eggs; she sat on the bog instead, and
+gathered them close to her side with her wing. That was all the
+brooding they had, or needed; for within a week there were two bright
+little loons to watch instead of the eggs.
+
+After the first success I used to go alone and, while the mother bird
+was out on the lake, would pull my canoe up in the grass, a hundred
+yards or so below the nest. From here I entered the alders and made
+my way to the bog, where I could watch Hukweem at my leisure. After a
+long wait she would steal into the bay very shyly, and after much fear
+and circumspection glide up to the canoe. It took a great deal of
+looking and listening to convince her that it was harmless, and that I
+was not hiding near in the grass. Once convinced, however, she would
+come direct to the nest; and I had the satisfaction at last of
+watching a loon at close quarters.
+
+She would sit there for hours--never sleeping apparently, for her eye
+was always bright--preening herself, turning her head slowly, so as to
+watch on all sides, snapping now and then at an obtrusive fly, all in
+utter unconsciousness that I was just behind her, watching every
+movement. Then, when I had enough, I would steal away along a caribou
+path, and push off quietly in my canoe without looking back. She saw
+me, of course, when I entered the canoe, but not once did she leave
+the nest. When I reached the open lake, a little searching with my
+glass always showed me her head there in the grass, still turned in my
+direction apprehensively.
+
+I had hoped to see her let the little ones out of their hard shell,
+and see them first take the water; but that was too much to expect.
+One day I heard them whistling in the eggs; the next day, when I
+came, there was nothing to be seen on the nest-bog. I feared that
+something had heard their whistling and put an untimely end to the
+young Hukweems while mother bird was away. But when she came back,
+after a more fearful survey than usual of the old bark canoe, two
+downy little fellows came bobbing to meet her out of the grass, where
+she had hidden them and told them to stay till she came back.
+
+It was a rare treat to watch them at their first feeding, the little
+ones all eagerness, bobbing about in the delight of eating and the
+wonder of the new great world, the mother all tenderness and
+watchfulness. Hukweem had never looked to me so noble before. This
+great wild mother bird, moving ceaselessly with marvelous grace about
+her little ones, watching their play with exquisite fondness, and
+watching the great dangerous world for their sakes, now chiding them
+gently, now drawing near to touch them with her strong bill, or to rub
+their little cheeks with hers, or just to croon over them in an
+ecstasy of that wonderful mother love which makes the summer
+wilderness beautiful,--in ten minutes she upset all my theories, and
+won me altogether, spite of what I had heard and seen of her
+destructiveness on the fishing grounds. After all, why should she not
+fish as well as I? And then began the first lessons in swimming and
+hiding and diving, which I had waited so long to see.
+
+Later I saw her bring little fish, which she had slightly wounded,
+turn them loose in shallow water, and with a sharp cluck bring the
+young loons out of their hiding, to set them chasing and diving wildly
+for their own dinners. But before that happened there was almost a
+tragedy.
+
+One day, while the mother was gone fishing, the little ones came out
+of their hiding among the grasses, and ventured out some distance into
+the bay. It was their first journey alone into the world; they were
+full of the wonder and importance of it. Suddenly, as I watched, they
+began to dart about wildly, moving with astonishing rapidity for such
+little fellows, and whistling loudly. From the bank above, a swift
+ripple had cut out into the water between them and the only bit of bog
+with which they were familiar. Just behind the ripple were the sharp
+nose and the beady eyes of Musquash, who is always in some mischief of
+this kind. In one of his prowlings he had discovered the little brood;
+now he was manœuvering craftily to keep the frightened youngsters
+moving till they should be tired out, while he himself crept carefully
+between them and the shore.
+
+Musquash knows well that when a young loon, or a shelldrake, or a
+black duck, is caught in the open like that, he always tries to get
+back where his mother hid him when she went away. That is what the
+poor little fellows were trying to do now, only to be driven back and
+kept moving wildly by the muskrat, who lifted himself now and then
+from the water, and wiggled his ugly jaws in anticipation of the
+feast. He had missed the eggs in his search; but young loon would be
+better, and more of it.--"There you are!" he snapped viciously,
+lunging at the nearest loon, which flashed under water and barely
+escaped.
+
+I had started up to interfere, for I had grown fond of the little wild
+things whose growth I had watched from the beginning, when a great
+splashing began on my left, and I saw the old mother bird coming like
+a fury. She was half swimming, half flying, tearing over the water at
+a great pace, a foamy white wake behind her.--"Now, you little
+villain, take your medicine. It's coming; it's coming," I cried
+excitedly, and dodged back to watch. But Musquash, intent on his evil
+doing (he has no need whatever to turn flesh-eater), kept on viciously
+after the exhausted little ones, paying no heed to his rear.
+
+Twenty yards away the mother bird, to my great astonishment, flashed
+out of sight under water. What could it mean! But there was little
+time to wonder. Suddenly a catapult seemed to strike the muskrat from
+beneath and lift him clear from the water. With a tremendous rush and
+sputter Hukweem came out beneath him, her great pointed bill driven
+through to his spine. Little need of my help now. With another
+straight hard drive, this time at eye and brain, she flung him aside
+disdainfully and rushed to her shivering little ones, questioning,
+chiding, praising them, all in the same breath, fluttering and
+cackling low in an hysteric wave of tenderness. Then she swam twice
+around the dead muskrat and led her brood away from the place.
+
+Perhaps it was to one of those same little ones that I owe a service
+for which I am more than grateful. It was in September, when I was at
+a lake ten miles away--the same lake into which a score of frolicking
+young loons gathered before moving south, and swam a race or two for
+my benefit. I was lost one day, hopelessly lost, in trying to make my
+way from a wild little lake where I had been fishing, to the large
+lake where my camp was. It was late afternoon. To avoid the long hard
+tramp down a river, up which I had come in the early morning, I
+attempted to cut across through unbroken forest without a compass.
+Traveling through a northern forest in summer is desperately hard
+work. The moss is ankle deep, the underbrush thick; fallen logs lie
+across each other in hopeless confusion, through and under and over
+which one must make his laborious way, stung and pestered by hordes of
+black flies and mosquitoes. So that, unless you have a strong instinct
+of direction, it is almost impossible to hold your course without a
+compass, or a bright sun, to guide you.
+
+I had not gone half the distance before I was astray. The sun was long
+obscured, and a drizzling rain set in, without any direction whatever
+in it by the time it reached the underbrush where I was. I had begun
+to make a little shelter, intending to put in a cheerless night there,
+when I heard a cry, and looking up caught a glimpse of Hukweem
+speeding high over the tree-tops. Far down on my right came a faint
+answering cry, and I hastened in its direction, making an Indian
+compass of broken twigs as I went along. Hukweem was a young loon, and
+was long in coming down. The crying ahead grew louder. Stirred up from
+their day rest by his arrival, the other loons began their sport
+earlier than usual. The crying soon became almost continuous, and I
+followed it straight to the lake.
+
+Once there, it was a simple matter to find the river and my old canoe
+waiting patiently under the alders in the gathering twilight. Soon I
+was afloat again, with a sense of unspeakable relief that only one
+can appreciate who has been lost and now hears the ripples sing under
+him, knowing that the cheerless woods lie behind, and that the
+camp-fire beckons beyond yonder point. The loons were hallooing far
+away, and I went over--this time in pure gratitude--to see them again.
+But my guide was modest and vanished post-haste into the mist the
+moment my canoe appeared.
+
+Since then, whenever I hear Hukweem in the night, or hear others speak
+of his unearthly laughter, I think of that cry over the tree-tops, and
+the thrilling answer far away. And the sound has a ring to it, in my
+ears, that it never had before. Hukweem the Night Voice found me
+astray in the woods, and brought me safe to a snug camp.--That is a
+service which one does not forget in the wilderness.
+
+
+
+
+
+                     GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES.
+
+
+
+Cheplahgan,       _chep-lâh´-gan_, the bald eagle.
+
+Chigwoòltz,       _chig-wooltz´_, the bullfrog.
+
+Clóte Scarpe,      a legendary hero, like Hiawatha, of the
+                   Northern Indians. Pronounced variously, Clote
+                   Scarpe, Groscap, Gluscap, etc.
+
+Hukweem,          _huk-weem´_, the great northern diver, or loon.
+
+Ismaques,         _iss-mâ-ques´_, the fish-hawk.
+
+Kagax,            _kăg´-ăx_, the weasel.
+
+Killooleet,       _kil´-loo-leet_, the white-throated sparrow.
+
+Kookooskoos,      _koo-koo-skoos´_, the great horned owl.
+
+Lhoks,            _locks_, the panther.
+
+Malsun,           _măl´-sun_, the wolf.
+
+Meeko,            _meek´-ō_, the red squirrel.
+
+Megaleep,         _meg´-â-leep_, the caribou.
+
+Milicete,         _mil´-ĭ-cete_, the name of an Indian tribe;
+                   written also Malicete.
+
+Moktaques,        _mok-tâ´-ques_, the hare.
+
+Mooween,          _moo-ween´_, the black bear.
+
+Nemox,            _nĕm´-ox_, the fisher.
+
+Pekquam,          _pek-wăm´_, the fisher.
+
+Seksagadagee,     _sek´-sâ-gā-dâ´-gee_, the grouse.
+
+Tookhees,         _tôk´-hees_, the wood mouse.
+
+Upweekis,         _up-week´-iss_, the Canada lynx.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wilderness Ways
+
+Author: William J Long
+
+Illustrator: Charles Copeland
+
+Release Date: May 31, 2005 [EBook #15950]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILDERNESS WAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi, Sankar
+Viswanathan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: frontispiece]
+
+
+
+                            WILDERNESS WAYS
+
+                                   BY
+
+                            WILLIAM J. LONG
+
+
+
+                            _SECOND SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+                            BOSTON, U.S.A.
+
+                      GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
+
+                          The Athen�um Press
+
+                                 1900
+
+
+
+
+TO KILLOOLEET, Little Sweet-Voice,
+who shares my camp and
+makes sunshine as I work and play.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+     The following sketches, like the "Ways of Wood Folk," are the
+     result of many years of personal observation in the woods and
+     fields. They are studies of animals, pure and simple, not of
+     animals with human motives and imaginations.
+
+     Indeed, it is hardly necessary for genuine interest to give human
+     traits to the beasts. Any animal is interesting enough as an
+     animal, and has character enough of his own, without borrowing
+     anything from man--as one may easily find out by watching long
+     enough.
+
+     Most wild creatures have but small measure of gentleness in them,
+     and that only by instinct and at short stated seasons. Hence I
+     have given both sides and both kinds, the shadows and lights, the
+     savagery as well as the gentleness of the wilderness creatures.
+
+     It were pleasanter, to be sure, especially when you have been
+     deeply touched by some exquisite bit of animal devotion, to let
+     it go at that, and to carry with you henceforth an ideal
+     creature.
+
+     But the whole truth is better--better for you, better for
+     children--else personality becomes confused with mere animal
+     individuality, and love turns to instinct, and sentiment
+     vaporizes into sentimentality.
+
+     This mother fox or fish-hawk here, this strong mother loon or
+     lynx that to-day brings the quick moisture to your eyes by her
+     utter devotion to the little helpless things which great Mother
+     Nature gave her to care for, will to-morrow, when they are grown,
+     drive those same little ones with savage treatment into the world
+     to face its dangers alone, and will turn away from their
+     sufferings thereafter with astounding indifference.
+
+     It is well to remember this, and to give proper weight to the
+     word, when we speak of the _love_ of animals for their little
+     ones.
+
+     I met a bear once--but this foolish thing is not to be
+     imitated--with two small cubs following at her heels. The mother
+     fled into the brush; the cubs took to a tree. After some timorous
+     watching I climbed after the cubs, and shook them off, and put
+     them into a bag, and carried them to my canoe, squealing and
+     appealing to the one thing in the woods that could easily have
+     helped them. I was ready enough to quit all claims and to take to
+     the brush myself upon inducement. But the mother had found a
+     blueberry patch and was stuffing herself industriously.
+
+     And I have seen other mother bears since then, and foxes and deer
+     and ducks and sparrows, and almost all the wild creatures
+     between, driving their own offspring savagely away. Generally
+     the young go of their own accord as early as possible, knowing no
+     affection but only dependence, and preferring liberty to
+     authority; but more than once I have been touched by the sight of
+     a little one begging piteously to be fed or just to stay, while
+     the mother drove him away impatiently. Moreover, they all kill
+     their weaklings, as a rule, and the burdensome members of too
+     large a family. This is not poetry or idealization, but just
+     plain animal nature.
+
+     As for the male animals, little can be said truthfully for their
+     devotion. Father fox and wolf, instead of caring for their mates
+     and their offspring, as we fondly imagine, live apart by
+     themselves in utter selfishness. They do nothing whatever for the
+     support or instruction of the young, and are never suffered by
+     the mothers to come into the den, lest they destroy their own
+     little ones. One need not go to the woods to see this; his own
+     stable or kennel, his own dog or cat will be likely to reveal the
+     startling brutality at the first good opportunity.
+
+     An indiscriminate love for all animals, likewise, is not the best
+     sentiment to cultivate toward creation. Black snakes in a land of
+     birds, sharks in the bluefish rips, rabbits in Australia, and
+     weasels everywhere are out of place in the present economy of
+     nature. Big owls and hawks, representing a yearly destruction of
+     thousands of good game birds and of untold innocent songsters,
+     may also be profitably studied with a gun sometimes instead of
+     an opera-glass. A mink is good for nothing but his skin; a red
+     squirrel--I hesitate to tell his true character lest I spoil too
+     many tender but false ideals about him all at once.
+
+     The point is this, that sympathy is too true a thing to be
+     aroused falsely, and that a wise discrimination, which recognizes
+     good and evil in the woods, as everywhere else in the world, and
+     which loves the one and hates the other, is vastly better for
+     children, young and old, than the blind sentimentality aroused by
+     ideal animals with exquisite human propensities. Therefore I
+     wrote the story of Kagax, simply to show him as he is, and so to
+     make you hate him.
+
+     In this one chapter, the story of Kagax the Weasel, I have
+     gathered into a single animal the tricks and cruelties of a score
+     of vicious little brutes that I have caught red-handed at their
+     work. In the other chapters I have, for the most part, again
+     searched my old notebooks and the records of wilderness camps,
+     and put the individual animals down just as I found them.
+
+
+
+                                             Wm. J. Long.
+
+      Stamford, September, 1900.
+
+
+
+
+                         CONTENTS.
+
+
+
+
+I. MEGALEEP THE WANDERER
+
+II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE
+
+III. KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY
+
+IV. KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT
+
+V. CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG
+
+VI. CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE
+
+VII. UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW
+
+VIII. HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE
+
+
+GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+I. MEGALEEP THE WANDERER.
+
+[Illustration: Megaleep]
+
+
+Megaleep is the big woodland caribou of the northern wilderness. His
+Milicete name means The Wandering One, but it ought to mean the
+Mysterious and the Changeful as well. If you hear that he is bold and
+fearless, that is true; and if you are told that he is shy and wary
+and inapproachable, that is also true. For he is never the same two
+days in succession. At once shy and bold, solitary and gregarious;
+restless as a cloud, yet clinging to his feeding grounds, spite of
+wolves and hunters, till he leaves them of his own free will; wild as
+Kakagos the raven, but inquisitive as a blue jay,--he is the most
+fascinating and the least known of all the deer.
+
+One thing is quite sure, before you begin your study: he is never
+where his tracks are, nor anywhere near it. And if after a season's
+watching and following you catch one good glimpse of him, that is a
+good beginning.
+
+I had always heard and read of Megaleep as an awkward, ungainly
+animal, but almost my first glimpse of him scattered all that to the
+winds and set my nerves a-tingling in a way that they still remember.
+It was on a great chain of barrens in the New Brunswick wilderness. I
+was following the trail of a herd of caribou one day, when far ahead a
+strange clacking sound came ringing across the snow in the crisp
+winter air. I ran ahead to a point of woods that cut off my view from
+a five-mile barren, only to catch breath in astonishment and drop to
+cover behind a scrub spruce. Away up the barren my caribou, a big herd
+of them, were coming like an express train straight towards me. At
+first I could make out only a great cloud of steam, a whirl of flying
+snow, and here and there the angry shake of wide antlers or the gleam
+of a black muzzle. The loud clacking of their hoofs, sweeping nearer
+and nearer, gave a snap, a tingle, a wild exhilaration to their rush
+which made one want to shout and swing his hat. Presently I could make
+out the individual animals through the cloud of vapor that drove down
+the wind before them. They were going at a splendid trot, rocking
+easily from side to side like pacing colts, power, grace, tirelessness
+in every stride. Their heads were high, their muzzles up, the antlers
+well back on heaving shoulders. Jets of steam burst from their
+nostrils at every bound; for the thermometer was twenty below zero,
+and the air snapping. A cloud of snow whirled out and up behind them;
+through it the antlers waved like bare oak boughs in the wind; the
+sound of their hoofs was like the clicking of mighty castanets--"Oh
+for a sledge and bells!" I thought; for Santa Claus never had such a
+team.
+
+So they came on swiftly, magnificently, straight on to the cover
+behind which I crouched with nerves thrilling as at a cavalry
+charge,--till I sprang to my feet with a shout and swung my hat; for,
+as there was meat enough in camp, I had small wish to use my rifle,
+and no desire whatever to stand that rush at close quarters and be run
+down. There was a moment of wild confusion out on the barren just in
+front of me. The long swinging trot, that caribou never change if they
+can help it, was broken into an awkward jumping gallop. The front rank
+reared, plunged, snorted a warning, but were forced onward by the
+pressure behind. Then the leading bulls gave a few mighty bounds which
+brought them close up to me, but left a clear space for the
+frightened, crowding animals behind. The swiftest shot ahead to the
+lead; the great herd lengthened out from its compact mass; swerved
+easily to the left, as at a word of command; crashed through the
+fringe of evergreen in which I had been hiding,--out into the open
+again with a wild plunge and a loud cracking of hoofs, where they all
+settled into their wonderful trot again, and kept on steadily across
+the barren below.
+
+That was the sight of a lifetime. One who saw it could never again
+think of caribou as ungainly animals.
+
+Megaleep belongs to the tribe of Ishmael. Indeed, his Latin name, as
+well as his Indian one, signifies The Wanderer; and if you watch him a
+little while you will understand perfectly why he is called so. The
+first time I ever met him in summer, in strong contrast to the winter
+herd, made his name clear in a moment. It was twilight on a wilderness
+lake. I was sitting in my canoe by the inlet, wondering what kind of
+bait to use for a big trout which lived in an eddy behind a rock, and
+which disdained everything I offered him. The swallows were busy,
+skimming low, and taking the young mosquitoes as they rose from the
+water. One dipped to the surface near the eddy. As he came down I saw
+a swift gleam in the depths below. He touched the water; there was a
+swirl, a splash--and the swallow was gone. The trout had him.
+
+Then a cow caribou came out of the woods onto the grassy point above
+me to drink. First she wandered all over the point, making it look
+afterwards as if a herd had passed. Then she took a sip of water by a
+rock, crossed to my side of the point, and took a sip there; then to
+the end of the point, and another sip; then back to the first place. A
+nibble of grass, and she waded far out from shore to sip there; then
+back, with a nod to a lily pad, and a sip nearer the brook. Finally
+she meandered a long way up the shore out of sight, and when I picked
+up the paddle to go, she came back again. Truly a _Wandergeist_ of the
+woods, like the plover of the coast, who never knows what he wants,
+nor why he circles about so, nor where he is going next.
+
+If you follow the herds over the barrens and through the forest in
+winter, you find the same wandering, unsatisfied creature. And if you
+are a sportsman and a keen hunter, with well established ways of
+trailing and stalking, you will be driven to desperation a score of
+times before you get acquainted with Megaleep. He travels enormous
+distances without any known object. His trail is everywhere; he is
+himself nowhere. You scour the country for a week, crossing
+innumerable trails, thinking the surrounding woods must be full of
+caribou; then a man in a lumber camp, where you are overtaken by
+night, tells you that he saw the herd you are after 'way down on the
+Renous barrens, thirty miles below. You go there, and have the same
+experience,--signs everywhere, old signs, new signs, but never a
+caribou. And, ten to one, while you are there, the caribou are
+sniffing your snowshoe track suspiciously back on the barrens that you
+have just left.
+
+Even in feeding, when you are hot on their trail and steal forward
+expecting to see them every moment, it is the same exasperating story.
+They dig a hole through four feet of packed snow to nibble the
+reindeer lichen that grows everywhere on the barrens. Before it is
+half eaten they wander off to the next barren and dig a larger hole;
+then away to the woods for the gray-green hanging moss that grows on
+the spruces. Here is a fallen tree half covered with the rich food.
+Megaleep nibbles a bite or two, then wanders away and away in search
+of another tree like the one he has just left.
+
+And when you find him at last, the chances are still against you. You
+are stealing forward cautiously when a fresh sign attracts attention.
+You stop to examine it a moment. Something gray, dim, misty, seems to
+drift like a cloud through the trees ahead. You scarcely notice it
+till, on your right, a stir, and another cloud, and another--The
+caribou, quick, a score of them! But before your rifle is up and you
+have found the sights, the gray things melt into the gray woods and
+drift away; and the stalk begins all over again.
+
+The reason for this restlessness is not far to seek. Megaleep's
+ancestors followed regular migrations in spring and autumn, like the
+birds, on the unwooded plains beyond the Arctic Circle. Megaleep never
+migrates; but the old instinct is in him and will not let him rest. So
+he wanders through the year, and is never satisfied.
+
+Fortunately nature has been kind to Megaleep in providing him with
+means to gratify his wandering disposition. In winter, moose and red
+deer must gather into yards and stay there. With the first heavy storm
+of December, they gather in small bands here and there on the hardwood
+ridges, and begin to make paths in the snow,--long, twisted, crooked
+paths, running for miles in every direction, crossing and recrossing
+in a tangle utterly hopeless to any head save that of a deer or moose.
+These paths they keep tramped down and more or less open all winter,
+so as to feed on the twigs and bark growing on either side. Were it
+not for this curious provision, a single severe winter would leave
+hardly a moose or a deer alive in the woods; for their hoofs are sharp
+and sink deep, and with six feet of snow on a level they can scarcely
+run half a mile outside their paths without becoming hopelessly
+stalled or exhausted.
+
+It is this great tangle of paths, by the way, which makes a deer or a
+moose yard; and not the stupid hole in the snow which is pictured in
+the geographies and most natural history books.
+
+But Megaleep the Wanderer makes no such provision he depends upon
+Mother Nature to take care of him. In summer he is brown, like the
+great tree trunks among which he moves unseen. Then the frog of his
+foot expands and grows spongy, so that he can cling to the
+mountain-side like a goat, or move silently over the dead leaves. In
+winter he becomes a soft gray, the better to fade into a snowstorm, or
+to stand concealed in plain sight on the edges of the gray, desolate
+barrens that he loves. Then the frog of his foot arches up out of the
+way; the edges of his hoof grow sharp and shell-like, so that he can
+travel over glare ice without slipping, and cut the crust to dig down
+for the moss upon which he feeds. The hoofs, moreover, are very large
+and deeply cleft, so as to spread widely when his weight is on them.
+When you first find his track in the snow, you rub your eyes, thinking
+that a huge ox must have passed that way. The dew-claws are also
+large, and the ankle joint so flexible that it lets them down upon the
+snow. So Megaleep has a kind of natural snowshoe with which he moves
+easily over the crust, and, except in very deep, soft snows, wanders
+at will, while other deer are prisoners in their yards. It is the
+snapping of these loose hoofs and ankle joints that makes the merry
+clacking sound as caribou run.
+
+Sometimes, however, they overestimate their abilities, and their
+wandering disposition brings them into trouble. Once I found a herd of
+seven up to their backs in soft snow, and tired out,--a strange
+condition for a caribou to be in. They were taking the affair
+philosophically, resting till they should gather strength to flounder
+to some spruce tops where moss was plenty. When I approached gently on
+snowshoes (I had been hunting them diligently the week before to kill
+them; but this put a different face on the matter) they gave a bound
+or two, then settled deep in the snow, and turned their heads and said
+with their great soft eyes: "You have hunted us. Here we are, at your
+mercy."
+
+They were very much frightened at first; then I thought they grew a
+bit curious, as I sat down peaceably in the snow to watch them. One--a
+doe, more exhausted than the others, and famished--even nibbled a bit
+of moss that I pushed near her with a stick. I had picked it with
+gloves, so that the smell of my hand was not on it. After an hour or
+so, if I moved softly, they let me approach quite up to them without
+shaking their antlers or renewing their desperate attempts to flounder
+away. But I did not touch them. That is a degradation which no wild
+creature will permit when he is free; and I would not take advantage
+of their helplessness.
+
+Did they starve in the snow? you ask. Oh, no! I went to the place next
+day and found that they had gained the spruce tops, ploughing through
+the snow in great bounds, following the track of the strongest, which
+went ahead to break the way. There they fed and rested, then went to
+some dense thickets where they passed the night. In a day or two the
+snow settled and hardened, and they took to their wandering again.
+
+Later, in hunting, I crossed their tracks several times, and once I
+saw them across a barren; but I left them undisturbed, to follow other
+trails. We had eaten together; they had fed from my hand; and there
+is no older truce on earth than that, not even in the unchanging East,
+where it originated.
+
+Megaleep in a storm is a most curious creature, the nearest thing to a
+ghost to be found in the woods. More than other animals he feels the
+falling barometer. His movements at such times drive you to
+desperation, if you are following him; for he wanders unceasingly.
+When the storm breaks he has a way of appearing suddenly, as if he
+were seeking you, when by his trail you thought him miles ahead. And
+the way he disappears--just melts into the thick driving flakes and
+the shrouded trees--is most uncanny. Six or seven caribou once played
+hide-and-seek with me that way, giving me vague glimpses here and
+there, drawing near to get my scent, yet keeping me looking up wind
+into the driving snow where I could see nothing distinctly. And all
+the while they drifted about like so many huge flakes of the storm,
+watching my every movement, seeing me perfectly.
+
+At such times they fear little, and even lay aside their usual
+caution. I remember trailing a large herd one day from early morning,
+keeping near them all the time, and jumping them half a dozen times,
+yet never getting a glimpse because of their extreme watchfulness. For
+some reason they were unwilling to leave a small chain of barrens.
+Perhaps they knew the storm was coming, when they would be safe; and
+so, instead of swinging off into a ten-mile straightaway trot at the
+first alarm, they kept dodging back and forth within a two-mile
+circle. At last, late in the afternoon, I followed the trail to the
+edge of dense evergreen thickets. Caribou generally rest in open woods
+or on the windward edge of a barren. Eyes for the open, nose for the
+cover, is their motto. And I thought, "They know perfectly well I am
+following them, and so have lain down in that tangle. If I go in, they
+will hear me; a wood mouse could hardly keep quiet in such a place. If
+I go round, they will catch my scent; if I wait, so will they; if I
+jump them, the scrub will cover their retreat perfectly."
+
+As I sat down in the snow to think it over, a heavy rush deep within
+the thicket told me that something, not I certainly, had again started
+them. Suddenly the air darkened, and above the excitement of the hunt
+I felt the storm coming. A storm in the woods is no joke when you are
+six miles from camp without axe or blanket. I broke away from the
+trail and started for the head of the second barren on the run. If I
+could make that, I was safe; for there was a stream near, which led
+near to camp; and one cannot very well lose a stream, even in a
+snowstorm. But before I was halfway the flakes were driving thick and
+soft in my face. Another half-mile, and one could not see fifty feet
+in any direction. Still I kept on, holding my course by the wind and
+my compass. Then, at the foot of the second barren, my snowshoes
+stumbled into great depressions in the snow, and I found myself on the
+fresh trail of my caribou again. "If I am lost, I will at least have a
+caribou steak, and a skin to wrap me up in," I said, and plunged after
+them. As I went, the old Mother Goose rhyme of nursery days came back
+and set itself to hunting music:
+
+  Bye, baby bunting,
+  Daddy's gone a hunting,
+  For to catch a rabbit skin
+  To wrap the baby bunting in.
+
+Presently I began to sing it aloud. It cheered one up in the storm,
+and the lilt of it kept time to the leaping kind of gallop which is
+the easiest way to run on snowshoes: "Bye, baby bunting; bye, baby
+bunting--Hello!"
+
+A dark mass loomed suddenly up before me on the open barren. The storm
+lightened a bit, before setting in heavier; and there were the caribou
+just in front of me, standing in a compact mass, the weaker ones in
+the middle. They had no thought nor fear of me apparently; they
+showed no sign of anger or uneasiness. Indeed, they barely moved aside
+as I snowshoed up, in plain sight, without any precaution whatever.
+And these were the same animals that had fled upon my approach at
+daylight, and that had escaped me all day with marvelous cunning.
+
+As with other deer, the storm is Megaleep's natural protector. When it
+comes he thinks that he is safe; that nobody can see him; that the
+falling snow will fill his tracks and kill his scent; and that
+whatever follows must speedily seek cover for itself. So he gives up
+watching, and lies down where he will. So far as his natural enemies
+are concerned, he is safe in this; for lynx and wolf and panther, seek
+shelter with a falling barometer. They can neither see nor smell; and
+they are all afraid. I have often noticed that among all animals and
+birds, from the least to the greatest, there is always a truce when
+the storms are out.
+
+But the most curious thing I ever stumbled into was a caribou school.
+That sounds queer; but it is more common in the wilderness than one
+thinks. All gregarious animals have perfectly well defined social
+regulations, which the young must learn and respect. To learn them,
+they go to school in their own interesting way.
+
+The caribou I am speaking of now are all woodland caribou--larger,
+finer animals every way than the barren-ground caribou of the desolate
+unwooded regions farther north. In summer they live singly, rearing
+their young in deep forest seclusions. There each one does as he
+pleases. So when you meet a caribou in summer, he is a different
+creature, and has more unknown and curious ways than when he runs with
+the herd in midwinter. I remember a solitary old bull that lived on
+the mountain-side opposite my camp one summer, a most interesting
+mixture of fear and boldness, of reserve and intense curiosity. After
+I had hunted him a few times, and he found that my purpose was wholly
+peaceable, he took to hunting me in the same way, just to find out who
+I was, and what queer thing I was doing. Sometimes I would see him at
+sunset on a dizzy cliff across the lake, watching for the curl of
+smoke or the coming of a canoe. And when I dove in for a swim and went
+splashing, dog-paddle way, about the island where my tent was, he
+would walk about in the greatest excitement, and start a dozen times
+to come down; but always he ran back for another look, as if
+fascinated. Again he would come down on a burned point near the deep
+hole where I was fishing, and, hiding his body in the underbrush,
+would push his horns up into the bare branches of a withered shrub,
+so as to make them inconspicuous, and stand watching me. As long as he
+was quiet, it was impossible to see him there; but I could always make
+him start nervously by flashing a looking-glass, or flopping a fish in
+the water, or whistling a jolly Irish jig. And when I tied a bright
+tomato can to a string and set it whirling round my head, or set my
+handkerchief for a flag on the end of my trout rod, then he could not
+stand it another minute, but came running down to the shore, to stamp,
+and fidget, and stare nervously, and scare himself with twenty alarms
+while trying to make up his mind to swim out and satisfy his burning
+desire to know all about it. But I am forgetting the caribou schools.
+
+Wherever there are barrens--treeless plains in the midst of dense
+forest--the caribou collect in small herds as winter comes on,
+following the old gregarious instinct. Then each one cannot do as he
+pleases any more; and it is for this winter and spring life together,
+when laws must be known, and the rights of the individual be laid
+aside for the good of the herd, that the young are trained.
+
+One afternoon in late summer I was drifting down the Toledi River,
+casting for trout, when a movement in the bushes ahead caught my
+attention. A great swampy tract of ground, covered with grass and low
+brush, spread out on either side the stream. From the canoe I made out
+two or three waving lines of bushes where some animals were making
+their way through the swamp towards a strip of big timber which formed
+a kind of island in the middle.
+
+Pushing my canoe into the grass, I made for a point just astern of the
+nearest quivering line of bushes. A glance at a bit of soft ground
+showed me the trail of a mother caribou with her calf. I followed
+cautiously, the wind being ahead in my favor. They were not hurrying,
+and I took good pains not to alarm them.
+
+When I reached the timber and crept like a snake through the
+underbrush, there were the caribou, five or six mother animals, and
+nearly twice as many little ones, well grown, which had evidently just
+come in from all directions. They were gathered in a natural opening,
+fairly clear of bushes, with a fallen tree or two, which served a good
+purpose later. The sunlight fell across it in great golden bars,
+making light and shadow to play in; all around was the great marsh,
+giving protection from enemies; dense underbrush screened them from
+prying eyes--and this was their schoolroom.
+
+The little ones were pushed out into the middle, away from the
+mothers to whom they clung instinctively, and were left to get
+acquainted with each other, which they did very shyly at first, like
+so many strange children. It was all new and curious, this meeting of
+their kind; for till now they had lived in dense solitudes, each one
+knowing no living creature save its own mother. Some were timid, and
+backed away as far as possible into the shadow, looking with wild,
+wide eyes from one to another of the little caribou, and bolting to
+their mothers' sides at every unusual movement. Others were bold, and
+took to butting at the first encounter. But careful, kindly eyes
+watched over them. Now and then a mother caribou would come from the
+shadows and push a little one gently from his retreat under a bush out
+into the company. Another would push her way between two heads that
+lowered at each other threateningly, and say with a warning shake of
+her head that butting was no good way to get along together. I had
+once thought, watching a herd on the barrens through my glasses, that
+they are the gentlest of animals with each other. Here in the little
+school in the heart of the swamp I found the explanation of things.
+
+For over an hour I lay there and watched, my curiosity growing more
+eager every moment; for most of what I saw I could not comprehend,
+having no key, nor understanding why certain youngsters, who needed
+reproof according to my standards, were let alone, and others kept
+moving constantly, and still others led aside often to be talked to by
+their mothers. But at last came a lesson in which all joined, and
+which could not be misunderstood, not even by a man. It was the
+jumping lesson.
+
+Caribou are naturally poor jumpers. Beside a deer, who often goes out
+of his way to jump a fallen tree just for the fun of it, they have no
+show whatever; though they can travel much farther in a day and much
+easier. Their gait is a swinging trot, from which it is impossible to
+jump; and if you frighten them out of their trot into a gallop and
+keep them at it, they soon grow exhausted. Countless generations on
+the northern wastes, where there is no need of jumping, have bred this
+habit, and modified their muscles accordingly. But now a race of
+caribou has moved south into the woods, where great trees lie fallen
+across the way, and where, if Megaleep is in a hurry or there is
+anybody behind him, jumping is a necessity. Still he doesn't like it,
+and avoids it whenever possible. The little ones, left to themselves,
+would always crawl under a tree, or trot round it. And this is another
+thing to overcome, and another lesson to be taught in the caribou
+school.
+
+As I watched them the mothers all came out from the shadows and began
+trotting round the opening, the little ones keeping close as possible,
+each one to its mother's side. Then the old ones went faster; the
+calves were left in a long line stringing out behind. Suddenly the
+leader veered in to the edge of the timber and went over a fallen tree
+with a jump; the cows followed splendidly, rising on one side, falling
+gracefully on the other, like gray waves racing past the end of a
+jetty. But the first little one dropped his head obstinately at the
+tree and stopped short. The next one did the same thing; only he ran
+his head into the first one's legs and knocked them out from under
+him. The others whirled with a _ba-a-a-ah_, and scampered round the
+tree and up to their mothers, who had turned now and stood watching
+anxiously to see the effect of their lesson. Then it began over again.
+
+It was true kindergarten teaching; for under guise of a frolic the
+calves were being taught a needful lesson,--not only to jump, but, far
+more important than that, to follow a leader, and to go where he goes
+without question or hesitation. For the leaders on the barrens are
+wise old bulls that make no mistakes. Most of the little caribou took
+to the sport very well, and presently followed the mothers over the
+low hurdles. But a few were timid; and then came the most intensely
+interesting bit of the whole strange school, when a little one would
+be led to a tree and butted from behind till he took the jump.
+
+There was no "consent of the governed" in that governing. The mother
+knew, and the calf didn't, just what was good for him.
+
+It was this last lesson that broke up the school. Just in front of my
+hiding place a tree fell out into the opening. A mother caribou
+brought her calf up to this unsuspectingly, and leaped over, expecting
+the little one to follow. As she struck she whirled like a top and
+stood like a beautiful statue, her head pointing in my direction. Her
+eyes were bright with fear, the ears set forward, the nostrils spread
+to catch every tainted atom from the air. Then she turned and glided
+silently away, the little one close to her side, looking up and
+touching her frequently as if to whisper, _What is it? what is it?_
+but making no sound. There was no signal given, no alarm of any kind
+that I could understand; yet the lesson stopped instantly. The caribou
+glided away like shadows. Over across the opening a bush swayed here
+and there; a leaf quivered as if something touched its branch. Then
+the schoolroom was empty and the woods all still.
+
+There is another curious habit of Megaleep; and this one I am utterly
+at a loss to account for. When he is old and feeble, and the tireless
+muscles will no longer carry him with the herd over the wind-swept
+barrens, and he falls sick at last, he goes to a spot far away in the
+woods, where generations of his ancestors have preceded him, and there
+lays him down to die. It is the caribou burying ground; and all the
+animals of a certain district, or a certain herd (I am unable to tell
+which), will go there when sick or sore wounded, if they have strength
+enough to reach the spot. For it is far away from the scene of their
+summer homes and their winter wanderings.
+
+I know one such place, and visited it twice from my summer camp. It is
+in a dark tamarack swamp by a lonely lake at the head of the
+Little-South-West Miramichi River, in New Brunswick. I found it one
+summer when trying to force my way from the big lake to a smaller one,
+where trout were plenty. In the midst of the swamp I stumbled upon a
+pair of caribou skeletons, which surprised me; for there were no
+hunters within a hundred miles, and at that time the lake had lain for
+many years unvisited. I thought of fights between bucks, and bull
+moose, how two bulls will sometimes lock horns in a rush, and are too
+weakened to break the lock, and so die together of exhaustion.
+Caribou are more peaceable; they rarely fight that way; and, besides,
+the horns here were not locked together, but lying well apart. As I
+searched about, looking for the explanation of things, thinking of
+wolves, yet wondering why the bones were not gnawed, I found another
+skeleton, much older, then four or five more; some quite fresh, others
+crumbling into mould. Bits of old bone and some splendid antlers were
+scattered here and there through the underbrush; and when I scraped
+away the dead leaves and moss, there were older bones and fragments
+mouldering beneath.
+
+I scarcely understood the meaning of it at the time; but since then I
+have met men, Indians and hunters, who have spent much time in the
+wilderness, who speak of "bone yards" which they have discovered,
+places where they can go at any time and be sure of finding a good set
+of caribou antlers. And they say that the caribou go there to die.
+
+All animals, when feeble with age, or sickly, or wounded, have the
+habit of going away deep into the loneliest coverts, and there lying
+down where the leaves shall presently cover them. So that one rarely
+finds a dead bird or animal in the woods where thousands die yearly.
+Even your dog, that was born and lived by your house, often
+disappears when you thought him too feeble to walk. Death calls him
+gently; the old wolf stirs deep within him, and he goes away where the
+master he served will never find him. And so with your cat, which is
+only skin-deep a domestic animal; and so with your canary, which in
+death alone would be free, and beats his failing wings against the
+cage in which he lived so long content. But these all go away singly,
+each to his own place. The caribou is the only animal I know that
+remembers, when his separation comes, the ties which bound him to the
+herd winter after winter, through sun and storm, in the forest where
+all was peace and plenty, and on the lonely barrens where the gray
+wolf howled on his track; so that he turns with his last strength from
+the herd he is leaving to the greater herd which has gone before
+him--still following his leaders, remembering his first lesson to the
+end.
+
+Sometimes I have wondered whether this also were taught in the caribou
+school; whether once in his life Megaleep were led to the spot and
+made to pass through it, so that he should feel its meaning and
+remember. That is not likely; for the one thing which an animal cannot
+understand is death. And there were no signs of living caribou
+anywhere near the place that I discovered; though down at the other
+end of the lake their tracks were everywhere.
+
+There are other questions, which one can only ask without answering.
+Is this silent gathering merely a tribute to the old law of the herd,
+or does Megaleep, with his last strength, still think to cheat his old
+enemy, and go away where the wolf that followed him all his life shall
+not find him? How was his resting place first selected, and what
+leaders searched out the ground? What sound or sign, what murmur of
+wind in the pines, or lap of ripples on the shore, or song of the
+veery at twilight made them pause and say, _Here is the place_? How
+does he know, he whose thoughts are all of life, and who never looked
+on death, where the great silent herd is that no caribou ever sees but
+once? And what strange instinct guides Megaleep to the spot where all
+his wanderings end at last?
+
+
+
+
+II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE.
+
+[Illustration: Killooleet]
+
+
+The day was cold, the woods were wet, and the weather was beastly
+altogether when Killooleet first came and sang on my ridgepole. The
+fishing was poor down in the big lake, and there were signs of
+civilization here and there, in the shape of settlers' cabins, which
+we did not like; so we had pushed up river, Simmo and I, thirty miles
+in the rain, to a favorite camping ground on a smaller lake, where we
+had the wilderness all to ourselves.
+
+The rain was still falling, and the lake white-capped, and the forest
+all misty and wind-blown when we ran our canoes ashore by the old
+cedar that marked our landing place. First we built a big fire to
+dry some boughs to sleep upon; then we built our houses, Simmo a
+bark _commoosie_, and I a little tent; and I was inside, getting
+dry clothes out of a rubber bag, when I heard a white-throated
+sparrow calling cheerily his Indian name, _O hear, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!_ And the sound was so sunny, so good
+to hear in the steady drip of rain on the roof, that I went out to see
+the little fellow who had bid us welcome to the wilderness.
+
+Simmo had heard too. He was on his hands and knees, just his dark face
+peering by the corner stake of his _commoosie_, so as to see better
+the little singer on my tent.--"Have better weather and better luck
+now. Killooleet sing on ridgepole," he said confidently. Then we
+spread some cracker crumbs for the guest and turned in to sleep till
+better times.
+
+That was the beginning of a long acquaintance. It was also the first
+of many social calls from a whole colony of white-throats (Tom-Peabody
+birds) that lived on the mountain-side just behind my tent, and that
+came one by one to sing to us, and to get acquainted, and to share our
+crumbs. Sometimes, too, in rainy weather, when the woods seemed wetter
+than the lake, and Simmo would be sleeping philosophically, and I
+reading, or tying trout flies in the tent, I would hear a gentle stir
+and a rustle or two just outside, under the tent fly. Then, if I crept
+out quietly, I would find Killooleet exploring my goods to find where
+the crackers grew, or just resting contentedly under the fly where it
+was dry and comfortable.
+
+It was good to live there among them, with the mountain at our backs
+and the lake at our feet, and peace breathing in every breeze or
+brooding silently over the place at twilight. Rain or shine, day or
+night, these white-throated sparrows are the sunniest, cheeriest folk
+to be found anywhere in the woods. I grew to understand and love the
+Milicete name, Killooleet, Little Sweet-Voice, for its expressiveness.
+"Hour-Bird" the Micmacs call him; for they say he sings every hour,
+and so tells the time, "all same's one white man's watch." And indeed
+there is rarely an hour, day or night, in the northern woods when you
+cannot hear Killooleet singing. Other birds grow silent after they
+have won their mates, or they grow fat and lazy as summer advances, or
+absorbed in the care of their young, and have no time nor thought for
+singing. But not so Killooleet. He is kinder to his mate after he has
+won her, and never lets selfishness or the summer steal away his
+music; for he knows that the woods are brighter for his singing.
+
+Sometimes, at night, I would, take a brand from the fire, and follow a
+deer path that wound about the mountain, or steal away into a dark
+thicket and strike a parlor match. As the flame shot up, lighting its
+little circle of waiting leaves, there would be a stir beside me in
+the underbrush, or overhead in the fir; then tinkling out of the
+darkness, like a brook under the snow, would come the low clear strain
+of melody that always set my heart a-dancing,--_I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet_, the good-night song of my gentle
+neighbor. Then along the path a little way, and another match, and
+another song to make one better and his rest sweeter.
+
+By day I used to listen to them, hours long at a stretch, practicing
+to perfect their song. These were the younger birds, of course; and
+for a long time they puzzled me. Those who know Killooleet's song will
+remember that it begins with three clear sweet notes; but very few
+have observed the break between the second and third of these. I
+noticed, first of all, that certain birds would start the song twenty
+times in succession, yet never get beyond the second note. And when I
+crept up, to find out about it, I would find them sitting
+disconsolately, deep in shadow, instead of out in the light where they
+love to sing, with a pitiful little droop of wings and tail, and the
+air of failure and dejection in every movement. Then again these same
+singers would touch the third note, and always in such cases they
+would prolong the last trill, the _lillooleet-lillooleet_ (the
+_Peabody-Peabody_, as some think of it), to an indefinite length,
+instead of stopping at the second or third repetition, which is the
+rule with good singers. Then they would come out of the shadow, and
+stir about briskly, and sing again with an air of triumph.
+
+One day, while lying still in the underbrush watching a wood mouse,
+Killooleet, a fine male bird and a perfect singer, came and sang on a
+branch just over my head, not noticing me. Then I discovered that
+there is a trill, a tiny grace note or yodel, at the end of his second
+note. I listened carefully to other singers, as close as I could get,
+and found that it is always there, and is the one difficult part of
+the song. You must be very close to the bird to appreciate the beauty
+of this little yodel; for ten feet away it sounds like a faint cluck
+interrupting the flow of the third note; and a little farther away you
+cannot hear it at all.
+
+[Illustration: Killooleet]
+
+Whatever its object, Killooleet regards this as the indispensable part
+of his song, and never goes on to the third note unless he gets the
+second perfectly. That accounts for the many times when one hears only
+the first two notes. That accounts also for the occasional prolonged
+trill which one hears; for when a young bird has tried many times for
+his grace note without success, and then gets it unexpectedly, he is
+so pleased with himself that he forgets he is not Whippoorwill, who
+tries to sing as long as the brook without stopping, and so keeps up
+the final _lillooleet-lillooleet_ as long as he has an atom of breath
+left to do it with.
+
+But of all the Killooleets,--and there were many that I soon
+recognized, either by their songs, or by some peculiarity in their
+striped caps or brown jackets,--the most interesting was the one who
+first perched on my ridgepole and bade me welcome to his camping
+ground. I soon learned to distinguish him easily; his cap was very
+bright, and his white cravat very full, and his song never stopped at
+the second note, for he had mastered the trill perfectly. Then, too,
+he was more friendly and fearless than all the others. The morning
+after our arrival (it was better weather, as Simmo and Killooleet had
+predicted) we were eating breakfast by the fire, when he lit on the
+ground close by, and turned his head sidewise to look at us curiously.
+I tossed him a big crumb, which made him run away in fright; but when
+he thought we were not looking he stole back, touched, tasted, ate the
+whole of it. And when I threw him another crumb, he hopped to meet it.
+
+After that he came regularly to meals, and would look critically over
+the tin plate which I placed at my feet, and pick and choose daintily
+from the cracker and trout and bacon and porridge which I offered him.
+Soon he began to take bits away with him, and I could hear him, just
+inside the fringe of underbrush, persuading his mate to come too and
+share his plate. But she was much shyer than he; it was several days
+before I noticed her flitting in and out of the shadowy underbrush;
+and when I tossed her the first crumb, she flew away in a terrible
+fright. Gradually, however, Killooleet persuaded her that we were
+kindly, and she came often to meals; but she would never come near, to
+eat from my tin plate, till after I had gone away.
+
+Never a day now passed that one or both of the birds did not rest on
+my tent. When I put my head out, like a turtle out of his shell, in
+the early morning to look at the weather, Killooleet would look down
+from the projecting end of the ridgepole and sing good-morning. And
+when I had been out late on the lake, night-fishing, or following the
+inlet for beaver, or watching the grassy points for caribou, or just
+drifting along shore silently to catch the night sounds and smells of
+the woods, I would listen with childish anticipation for Killooleet's
+welcome as I approached the landing. He had learned to recognize the
+sounds of my coming, the rub of a careless paddle, the ripple of
+water under the bow, or the grating of pebbles on the beach; and with
+Simmo asleep, and the fire low, it was good to be welcomed back by a
+cheery little voice in the darkness; for he always sang when he heard
+me. Sometimes I would try to surprise him; but his sleep was too light
+and his ears too keen. The canoe would glide up to the old cedar and
+touch the shore noiselessly; but with the first crunch of gravel under
+my foot, or the rub of my canoe as I lifted it out, he would waken;
+and his song, all sweetness and cheer, _I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet_, would ripple out of the dark
+underbrush where his nest was.
+
+I am glad now to think that I never saw that nest, though it was
+scarcely ten yards from my tent, until after the young had flown, and
+Killooleet cared no more about it. I knew the bush in which it was,
+close by the deer path; could pick out from my fireplace the thick
+branch that sheltered it; for I often watched the birds coming and
+going. I have no doubt that Killooleet would have welcomed me there
+without fear; but his mate never laid aside her shyness about it,
+never went to it directly when I was looking, and I knew he would like
+me better if I respected her little secret.
+
+Soon, from the mate's infrequent visits, and from the amount of food
+which Killooleet took away with him, I knew she was brooding her eggs.
+And when at last both birds came together, and, instead of helping
+themselves hungrily, each took the largest morsel he could carry and
+hurried away to the nest, I knew that the little ones were come; and I
+spread the plate more liberally, and moved it away to the foot of the
+old cedar, where Killooleet's mate would not be afraid to come at any
+time.
+
+One day, not long after, as I sat at a late breakfast after the
+morning's fishing, there was a great stir in the underbrush. Presently
+Killooleet came skipping out, all fuss and feathers, running back and
+forth with an air of immense importance between the last bush and the
+plate by the cedar, crying out in his own way, "Here it is, here it
+is, all right, just by the old tree as usual. Crackers, trout, brown
+bread, porridge; come on, come on; don't be afraid. _He's_ here, but
+he won't harm. I know him. Come on, come on!"
+
+Soon his little gray mate appeared under the last bush, and after much
+circumspection came hopping towards the breakfast; and after her, in a
+long line, five little Killooleets, hopping, fluttering, cheeping,
+stumbling,--all in a fright at the big world, but all in a desperate
+hurry for crackers and porridge _ad libitum_; now casting hungry eyes
+at the plate under the old cedar, now stopping to turn their heads
+sidewise to see the big kind animal with only two legs, that
+Killooleet had told them about, no doubt, many times.
+
+After that we had often seven guests to breakfast, instead of two. It
+was good to hear them, the lively _tink, tink-a-tink_ of their little
+bills on the tin plate in a merry tattoo, as I ate my own tea and
+trout thankfully. I had only to raise my eyes to see them in a bobbing
+brown ring about my bounty; and, just beyond them, the lap of ripples
+on the beach, the lake glinting far away in the sunshine, and a bark
+canoe fretting at the landing, swinging, veering, nodding at the
+ripples, and beckoning me to come away as soon as I had finished my
+breakfast.
+
+Before the little Killooleets had grown accustomed to things, however,
+occurred the most delicious bit of our summer camping. It was only a
+day or two after their first appearance; they knew simply that crumbs
+and a welcome awaited them at my camp, but had not yet learned that
+the tin plate in the cedar roots was their special portion. Simmo had
+gone off at daylight, looking up beaver signs for his fall trapping. I
+had just returned from the morning fishing, and was getting breakfast,
+when I saw an otter come out into the lake from a cold brook over on
+the east shore. Grabbing a handful of figs, and some pilot bread from
+the cracker box, I paddled away after the otter; for that is an animal
+which one has small chance to watch nowadays. Besides, I had found a
+den over near the brook, and I wanted to find out, if possible, how a
+mother otter teaches her young to swim. For, though otters live much
+in the water and love it, the young ones are afraid of it as so many
+kittens. So the mother--
+
+But I must tell about that elsewhere. I did not find out that day; for
+the young were already good swimmers. I watched the den two or three
+hours from a good hiding place, and got several glimpses of the mother
+and the little ones. On the way back I ran into a little bay where a
+mother shelldrake was teaching her brood to dive and catch trout.
+There was also a big frog there that always sat in the same place, and
+that I used to watch. Then I thought of a trap, two miles away, which
+Simmo had set, and went to see if Nemox, the cunning fisher, who
+destroys the sable traps in winter, had been caught at his own game.
+So it was afternoon, and I was hungry, when I paddled back to camp. It
+occurred to me suddenly that Killooleet might be hungry too; for I had
+neglected to feed him. He had grown sleek and comfortable of late, and
+never went insect hunting when he could get cold fried trout and corn
+bread.
+
+I landed silently and stole up to the tent to see if he were exploring
+under the fly, as he sometimes did when I was away. A curious sound, a
+hollow _tunk, tunk, tunk, tunk-a-tunk_, grew louder as I approached. I
+stole to the big cedar, where I could see the fireplace and the little
+opening before my tent, and noticed first that I had left the cracker
+box open (it was almost empty) when I hurried away after the otter.
+The curious sound was inside, growing more eager every moment--_tunk,
+tunk, tunk-a-trrrrrrr-runk, tunk, tunk!_
+
+I crept on my hands and knees to the box, to see what queer thing had
+found his way to the crackers, and peeped cautiously over the edge.
+There were Killooleet, and Mrs. Killooleet, and the five little
+Killooleets, just seven hopping brown backs and bobbing heads, helping
+themselves to the crackers. And the sound of their bills on the empty
+box made the jolliest tattoo that ever came out of a camping kit.
+
+I crept away more cautiously than I had come, and, standing carelessly
+in my tent door, whistled the call I always used in feeding the birds.
+Like a flash Killooleet appeared on the edge of the cracker box,
+looking very much surprised. "I thought you were away; why, I thought
+you were away," he seemed to be saying. Then he clucked, and the
+_tunk-a-tunk_ ceased instantly. Another cluck, and Mrs. Killooleet
+appeared, looking frightened; then, one after another, the five little
+Killooleets bobbed up; and there they sat in a solemn row on the edge
+of the cracker box, turning their heads sidewise to see me better.
+
+"There!" said Killooleet, "didn't I tell you he wouldn't hurt you?"
+And like five winks the five little Killooleets were back in the box,
+and the _tunk-a-tunking_ began again.
+
+This assurance that they might do as they pleased, and help themselves
+undisturbed to whatever they found, seemed to remove the last doubt
+from the mind of even the little gray mate. After that they stayed
+most of the time close about my tent, and were never so far away, or
+so busy insect hunting, that they would not come when I whistled and
+scattered crumbs. The little Killooleets grew amazingly, and no
+wonder! They were always eating, always hungry. I took good pains to
+give them less than they wanted, and so had the satisfaction of
+feeding them often, and of finding their tin plate picked clean
+whenever I came back from fishing.
+
+Did the woods seem lonely to Killooleet when we paddled away at last
+and left the wilderness for another year? That is a question which I
+would give much, or watch long, to answer. There is always a regret at
+leaving a good camping ground, but I had never packed up so
+unwillingly before. Killooleet was singing, cheery as ever; but my own
+heart gave a minor chord of sadness to his trill that was not there
+when he sang on my ridgepole. Before leaving I had baked a loaf, big
+and hard, which I fastened with stakes at the foot of the old cedar,
+with a tin plate under it and a bark roof above, so that when it
+rained, and insects were hidden under the leaves, and their hunting
+was no fun because the woods were wet, Killooleet and his little ones
+would find food, and remember me. And so we paddled away and left him
+to the wilderness.
+
+A year later my canoe touched the same old landing. For ten months I
+had been in the city, where Killooleet never sings, and where the
+wilderness is only a memory. In the fall, on some long tramps, I had
+occasional glimpses of the little singer, solitary now and silent,
+stealing southward ahead of the winter. And in the spring he showed
+himself rarely in the underbrush on country roads, eager, restless,
+chirping, hurrying northward where the streams were clear and the big
+woods budding. But never a song in all that time; my ears were hungry
+for his voice as I leaped out to run eagerly to the big cedar. There
+were the stakes, and the tin plate, and the bark roof all crushed by
+the snows of winter. The bread was gone; what Killooleet had spared,
+Tookhees the wood mouse had eaten thankfully. I found the old tent
+poles and put up my house leisurely, a hundred happy memories
+thronging about me. In the midst of them came a call, a clear
+whistle,--and there he was, the same full cravat, the same bright cap,
+and the same perfect song to set my nerves a-tingling: _I'm here,
+sweet Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!_ And when I put crumbs by the
+old fireplace, he flew down to help himself, and went off with the
+biggest one, as of yore, to his nest by the deer path.
+
+
+
+
+III. KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY.
+
+[Illustration: Kagax]
+
+
+This is the story of one day, the last one, in the life of Kagax the
+Weasel, who turns white in winter, and yellow in spring, and brown in
+summer, the better to hide his villainy.
+
+It was early twilight when Kagax came out of his den in the rocks,
+under the old pine that lightning had blasted. Day and night were
+meeting swiftly but warily, as they always meet in the woods. The life
+of the sunshine came stealing nestwards and denwards in the peace of a
+long day and a full stomach; the night life began to stir in its
+coverts, eager, hungry, whining. Deep in the wild raspberry thickets a
+wood thrush rang his vesper bell softly; from the mountain top a night
+hawk screamed back an answer, and came booming down to earth, where
+the insects were rising in myriads. Near the thrush a striped chipmunk
+sat chunk-a-chunking his sleepy curiosity at a burned log which a bear
+had just torn open for red ants; while down on the lake shore a
+cautious _plash-plash_ told where a cow moose had come out of the
+alders with her calf to sup on the yellow lily roots and sip the
+freshest water. Everywhere life was stirring; everywhere cries, calls,
+squeaks, chirps, rustlings, which only the wood-dweller knows how to
+interpret, broke in upon the twilight stillness.
+
+Kagax grinned and showed all his wicked little teeth as the many
+voices went up from lake and stream and forest. "Mine, all mine--to
+kill," he snarled, and his eyes began to glow deep red. Then he
+stretched one sinewy paw after another, rolled over, climbed a tree,
+and jumped down from a swaying twig to get the sleep all out of him.
+
+Kagax had slept too much, and was mad with the world. The night
+before, he had killed from sunset to sunrise, and much tasting of
+blood had made him heavy. So he had slept all day long, only stirring
+once to kill a partridge that had drummed near his den and waked him
+out of sleep. But he was too heavy to hunt then, so he crept back
+again, leaving the bird untasted under the end of his own drumming
+log. Now Kagax was eager to make up for lost time; for all time is
+lost to Kagax that is not spent in killing. That is why he runs night
+and day, and barely tastes the blood of his victims, and sleeps only
+an hour or two of cat naps at a time--just long enough to gather
+energy for more evil doing.
+
+As he stretched himself again, a sudden barking and snickering came
+from a giant spruce on the hill just above. Meeko, the red squirrel,
+had discovered a new jay's nest, and was making a sensation over it,
+as he does over everything that he has not happened to see before. Had
+he known who was listening, he would have risked his neck in a
+headlong rush for safety; for all the wild things fear Kagax as they
+fear death. But no wild thing ever knows till too late that a weasel
+is near.
+
+Kagax listened a moment, a ferocious grin on his pointed face; then he
+stole towards the sound. "I intended to kill those young hares first,"
+he thought, "but this fool squirrel will stretch my legs better, and
+point my nose, and get the sleep out of me--There he is, in the big
+spruce!"
+
+Kagax had not seen the squirrel; but that did not matter; he can
+locate a victim better with his nose or ears than he can with his
+eyes. The moment he was sure of the place, he rushed forward without
+caution. Meeko was in the midst of a prolonged snicker at the scolding
+jays, when he heard a scratch on the bark below, turned, looked down,
+and fled with a cry of terror. Kagax was already halfway up the tree,
+the red fire blazing in his eyes.
+
+The squirrel rushed to the end of a branch, jumped to a smaller
+spruce, ran that up to the top; then, because his fright had made him
+forget the tree paths that ordinarily he knew very well, he sprang out
+and down to the ground, a clear fifty feet, breaking his fall by
+catching and holding for an instant a swaying fir tip on the way. Then
+he rushed pell-mell over logs and rocks, and through the underbrush to
+a maple, and from that across a dozen trees to another giant spruce,
+where he ran up and down desperately over half the branches, crossing
+and crisscrossing his trail, and dropped panting at last into a little
+crevice under a broken limb. There he crouched into the smallest
+possible space and watched, with an awful fear in his eyes, the rough
+trunk below.
+
+Far behind him came Kagax, grim, relentless, silent as death. He paid
+no attention to scratching claws nor swaying branches, never looking
+for the jerking red tip of Meeko's tail, nor listening for the loud
+thump of his feet when he struck the ground. A pair of brave little
+flycatchers saw the chase and rushed at the common enemy, striking him
+with their beaks, and raising an outcry that brought a score of
+frightened, clamoring birds to the scene. But Kagax never heeded. His
+whole being seemed to be concentrated in the point of his nose. He
+followed like a bloodhound to the top of the second spruce, sniffed
+here and there till he caught the scent of Meeko's passage through the
+air, ran to the end of a branch in the same direction and leaped to
+the ground, landing not ten feet from the spot where the squirrel had
+struck a moment before. There he picked up the trail, followed over
+logs and rocks to the maple, up to the third branch, and across fifty
+yards of intervening branches to the giant spruce where his victim sat
+half paralyzed, watching from his crevice.
+
+Here Kagax was more deliberate. Left and right, up and down he went
+with deadly patience, from the lowest branch to the top, a hundred
+feet above, following every cross and winding of the trail. A dozen
+times he stopped, went back, picked up the fresher trail, and went on
+again. A dozen times he passed within a few feet of his victim,
+smelling him strongly, but scorning to use his eyes till his nose had
+done its perfect work. So he came to the last turn, followed the last
+branch, his nose to the bark, straight to the crevice under the broken
+branch, where Meeko crouched shivering, knowing it was all over.
+
+There was a cry, that no one heeded in the woods; there was a flash
+of sharp teeth, and the squirrel fell, striking the ground with a
+heavy thump. Kagax ran down the trunk, sniffed an instant at the body
+without touching it, and darted away to the form among the ferns. He
+had passed it at daylight when he was too heavy for killing.
+
+Halfway to the lake, he stopped; a thrilling song from a dead spruce
+top bubbled out over the darkening woods. When a hermit thrush sings
+like that, his nest is somewhere just below. Kagax began twisting in
+and out like a snake among the bushes, till a stir in a tangle of
+raspberry vines, which no ears but his or an owl's would ever notice,
+made him shrink close to the ground and look up. The red fire blazed
+in his eyes again; for there was Mother Thrush just settling onto her
+nest, not five feet from his head.
+
+To climb the raspberry vines without shaking them, and so alarming the
+bird, was out of the question; but there was a fire-blasted tree just
+behind. Kagax climbed it stealthily on the side away from the bird,
+crept to a branch over the nest, and leaped down. Mother Thrush was
+preening herself sleepily, feeling the grateful warmth of her eggs and
+listening to the wonderful song overhead, when the blow came. Before
+she knew what it was, the sharp teeth had met in her brain. The
+pretty nest would never again wait for a brooding mother in the
+twilight.
+
+All the while the wonderful song went on; for the hermit thrush,
+pouring his soul out, far above on the dead spruce top, heard not a
+sound of the tragedy below.
+
+Kagax flung the warm body aside savagely, bit through the ends of the
+three eggs, wishing they were young thrushes, and leaped to the
+ground. There he just tasted the brain of his victim to whet his
+appetite, listened a moment, crouching among the dead leaves, to the
+melody overhead, wishing it were darker, so that the hermit would come
+down and he could end his wicked work. Then he glided away to the
+young hares.
+
+There were five of them in the form, hidden among the coarse brakes of
+a little opening. Kagax went straight to the spot. A weasel never
+forgets. He killed them all, one after another, slowly, deliberately,
+by a single bite through the spine, tasting only the blood of the last
+one. Then he wriggled down among the warm bodies and waited, his nose
+to the path by which Mother Hare had gone away. He knew well she would
+soon be coming back.
+
+Presently he heard her, _put-a-put_, _put-a-put_, hopping along the
+path, with a waving line of ferns to show just where she was. Kagax
+wriggled lower among his helpless victims; his eyes blazed red again,
+so red that Mother Hare saw them and stopped short. Then Kagax sat up
+straight among the dead babies and screeched in her face.
+
+The poor creature never moved a step; she only crouched low before her
+own door and began to shiver violently. Kagax ran up to her; raised
+himself on his hind legs so as to place his fore paws on her neck;
+chose his favorite spot behind the ears, and bit. The hare
+straightened out, the quivering ceased. A tiny drop of blood followed
+the sharp teeth on either side. Kagax licked it greedily and hurried
+away, afraid to spoil his hunt by drinking.
+
+But he had scarcely entered the woods, running heedlessly, when the
+moss by a great stone stirred with a swift motion. There was a squeak
+of fright as Kagax jumped forward like lightning--but too late.
+Tookhees, the timid little wood mouse, who was digging under the moss
+for twin-flower roots to feed his little ones, had heard the enemy
+coming, and dove headlong into his hole, just in time to escape the
+snap of Kagax's teeth.
+
+That angered the fiery little weasel like poking a stick at him. To be
+caught napping, or to be heard running through the woods, is more than
+he can possibly stand. His eyes fairly snapped as he began digging
+furiously. Below, he could hear a chorus of faint squeaks, the clamor
+of young wood mice for their supper. But a few inches down, and the
+hole doubled under a round stone, then vanished between two roots
+close together. Try as he would, Kagax could only wear his claws out,
+without making any progress. He tried to force his shoulders through;
+for a weasel thinks he can go anywhere. But the hole was too small.
+Kagax cried out in rage and took up the trail. A dozen times he ran it
+from the hole to the torn moss, where Tookhees had been digging roots,
+and back again; then, sure that all the wood mice were inside, he
+tried to tear his way between the obstinate roots. As well try to claw
+down the tree itself.
+
+All the while Tookhees, who always has just such a turn in his tunnel,
+and who knows perfectly when he is safe, crouched just below the
+roots, looking up with steady little eyes, like two black beads, at
+his savage pursuer, and listening in a kind of dumb terror to his
+snarls of rage.
+
+Kagax gave it up at last and took to running in circles. Wider and
+wider he went, running swift and silent, his nose to the ground,
+seeking other mice on whom to wreak his vengeance. Suddenly he struck
+a fresh trail and ran it straight to the clearing where a foolish
+field mouse had built a nest in a tangle of dry brakes. Kagax caught
+and killed the mother as she rushed out in alarm. Then he tore the
+nest open and killed all the little ones. He tasted the blood of one
+and went on again.
+
+The failure to catch the wood mouse still rankled in his head and kept
+his eyes bright red. Suddenly he turned from his course along the lake
+shore; he began to climb the ridge. Up and up he went, crossing a
+dozen trails that ordinarily he would have followed, till he came to
+where a dead tree had fallen and lodged against a big spruce, near the
+summit. There he crouched in the underbrush and waited.
+
+Up near the top of the dead tree, a pair of pine martens had made
+their den in the hollow trunk, and reared a family of young martens
+that drew Kagax's evil thoughts like a magnet. The marten belongs to
+the weasel's own family; therefore, as a choice bit of revenge, Kagax
+would rather kill him than anything else. A score of times he had
+crouched in this same place and waited for his chance. But the marten
+is larger and stronger every way than the weasel, and, though shyer,
+almost as savage in a fight. And Kagax was afraid.
+
+But to-night Kagax was in a more vicious mood than ever before; and a
+weasel's temper is always the most vicious thing in the woods. He
+stole forward at last and put his nose to the foot of the leaning
+tree. Two fresh trails went out; none came back. Kagax followed them
+far enough to be sure that both martens were away hunting; then he
+turned and ran like a flash up the incline and into the den.
+
+In a moment he came out, licking his chops greedily. Inside, the young
+martens lay just as they had been left by the mother; only they began
+to grow very cold. Kagax ran to the great spruce, along a branch into
+another tree; then to the ground by a dizzy jump. There he ran swiftly
+for a good half hour in a long diagonal down towards the lake,
+crisscrossing his trail here and there as he ran.
+
+Once more his night's hunting began, with greater zeal than before. He
+was hungry now; his nose grew keen as a brier for every trail. A faint
+smell stopped him, so faint that the keenest-nosed dog or fox would
+have passed without turning, the smell of a brooding partridge on her
+eggs. There she was, among the roots of a pine, sitting close and
+blending perfectly with the roots and the brown needles. Kagax moved
+like a shadow; his nose found the bird; before she could spring he was
+on her back, and his teeth had done their evil work. Once more he
+tasted the fresh brains with keen relish. He broke all the eggs, so
+that none else might profit by his hunting, and went on again.
+
+On some moist ground, under a hemlock, he came upon the fresh trail of
+a wandering hare--no simple, unsuspecting mother, coming back to her
+babies, but a big, strong, suspicious fellow, who knew how to make a
+run for his life. Kagax was still fresh and eager; here was game that
+would stretch his muscles. The red lust of killing flamed into his
+eyes as he jumped away on the trail.
+
+Soon, by the long distances between tracks, he knew that the hare was
+startled. The scent was fresher now, so fresh that he could follow it
+in the air, without putting his nose to the ground.
+
+Suddenly a great commotion sounded among the bushes just ahead, where
+a moment before all was still. The hare had been lying there, watching
+his back track to see what was following. When he saw the red eyes of
+Kagax, he darted away wildly. A few hundred yards, and the foolish
+hare, who could run far faster than his pursuer, dropped in the bushes
+again to watch and see if the weasel was still after him.
+
+Kagax was following, swiftly, silently. Again the hare bounded away,
+only to stop and scare himself into fits by watching his own trail
+till the red eyes of the weasel blazed into view. So it went on for a
+half hour, through brush and brake and swamp, till the hare had lost
+all his wits and began to run wildly in small circles. Then Kagax
+turned, ran the back track a little way, and crouched flat on the
+ground.
+
+In a moment the hare came tearing along on his own trail--straight
+towards the yellow-brown ball under a fern tip. Kagax waited till he
+was almost run over; then he sprang up and screeched. That ended the
+chase. The hare just dropped on his fore paws. Kagax jumped for his
+head; his teeth met; the hunger began to gnaw, and he drank his fill
+greedily.
+
+For a time the madness of the chase seemed to be in the blood he
+drank. Keener than ever to kill, he darted away on a fresh trail. But
+soon his feast began to tell; his feet grew heavy. Angry at himself,
+he lay down to sleep their weight away.
+
+Far behind him, under the pine by the partridge's nest, a long dark
+shadow seemed to glide over the ground. A pointed nose touched the
+leaves here and there; over, the nose a pair of fierce little eyes
+glowed deep red as Kagax's own. So the shadow came to the partridge's
+nest, passed over it, minding not the scent of broken eggs nor of the
+dead bird, but only the scent of the weasel, and vanished into the
+underbrush on the trail.
+
+Kagax woke with a start and ran on. A big bullfrog croaked down on the
+shore. Kagax stalked and killed him, leaving his carcass untouched
+among the lily pads. A dead pine in a thicket attracted his suspicion.
+He climbed it swiftly, found a fresh round hole, and tumbled in upon a
+mother bird and a family of young woodpeckers. He killed them all,
+tasting the brains again, and hunted the tree over for the father
+bird, the great black logcock that makes the wilderness ring with his
+tattoo. But the logcock heard claws on the bark and flew to another
+tree, making a great commotion in the darkness as he blundered along,
+but not knowing what it was that had startled him.
+
+So the night wore on, with Kagax killing in every thicket, yet never
+satisfied with killing. He thought longingly of the hard winter, when
+game was scarce, and he had made his way out over the snow to the
+settlement, and lived among the chicken coops. "Twenty big hens in one
+roost--that was killing," snarled Kagax savagely, as he strangled two
+young herons in their nest, while the mother bird went on with her
+frogging, not ten yards away among the lily pads, and never heard a
+rustle.
+
+Toward morning he turned homeward, making his way back in a circle
+along the top of the ridge where his den was, and killing as he went.
+He had tasted too much; his feet grew heavier than they had ever been
+before. He thought angrily that he would have to sleep another whole
+day. And to sleep a whole day, while the wilderness was just beginning
+to swarm with life, filled Kagax with snarling rage.
+
+A mother hare darted away from her form as the weasel's wicked eyes
+looked in upon her. Kagax killed the little ones and had started after
+the mother, when a shiver passed over him and he turned back to
+listen. He had been moving more slowly of late; several times he had
+looked behind him with the feeling that he was followed. He stole back
+to the hare's form and lay hidden, watching his back track. He
+shivered again. "If it were not stronger than I, it would not follow
+my trail," thought Kagax. The fear of a hunted thing came upon him. He
+remembered the marten's den, the strangled young ones, the two trails
+that left the leaning tree. "They must have turned back long ago,"
+thought Kagax, and darted away. His back was cold now, cold as ice.
+
+But his feet grew very heavy ere he reached his den. A faint light
+began to show over the mountain across the lake. Killooleet, the
+white-throated sparrow, saw it, and his clear morning song tinkled
+out of the dark underbrush. Kagax's eyes glowed red again; he stole
+toward the sound for a last kill. Young sparrows' brains are a dainty
+dish; he would eat his fill, since he must sleep all day. He found the
+nest; he had placed his fore paws against the tree that held it, when
+he dropped suddenly; the shivers began to course all over him. Just
+below, from a stub in a dark thicket, a deep _Whooo-hoo-hoo!_ rolled
+out over the startled woods.
+
+It was Kookooskoos, the great horned owl, who generally hunts only in
+the evening twilight, but who, with growing young ones to feed,
+sometimes uses the morning twilight as well. Kagax lay still as a
+stone. Over him the sparrows, knowing the danger, crouched low in
+their nest, not daring to move a claw lest the owl should hear.
+
+Behind him the same shadow that had passed over the partridge's nest
+looked into the hare's form with fierce red eyes. It followed Kagax's
+trail over that of the mother hare, turned back, sniffed the earth,
+and came hurrying silently along the ridge.
+
+[Illustration: Kookooskoos]
+
+Kagax crept stealthily out of the thicket. He had an awful fear now of
+his feet; for, heavy with the blood he had eaten, they would rustle
+the leaves, or scratch on the stones, that all night long they had
+glided over in silence. He was near his den now. He could see the old
+pine that lightning had blasted, towering against the sky over the
+dark spruces.
+
+Again the deep _Whooo-hoo-hoo_! rolled over the hillside. To Kagax,
+who gloats over his killing except when he is afraid, it became an
+awful accusation. "Who has killed where he cannot eat? who strangled a
+brooding bird? who murdered his own kin?" came thundering through the
+woods. Kagax darted for his den. His hind feet struck a rotten twig
+that they should have cleared; it broke with a sharp snap. In an
+instant a huge shadow swept down from the stub and hovered over the
+sound. Two fierce yellow eyes looked in upon Kagax, crouching and
+trying to hide under a fir tip.
+
+Kagax whirled when the eyes found him and two sets of strong curved
+claws dropped down from the shadow. With a savage snarl he sprang up,
+and his teeth met; but no blood followed the bite, only a flutter of
+soft brown feathers. Then one set of sharp claws gripped his head;
+another set met deep in his back. Kagax was jerked swiftly into the
+air, and his evil doing was ended forever.
+
+There was a faint rustle in the thicket as the shadow of Kookooskoos
+swept away to his nest. The long lithe form of a pine marten glided
+straight to the fir tip, where Kagax had been a moment before. His
+movements were quick, nervous, silent; his eyes showed like two drops
+of blood over his twitching nostrils. He circled swiftly about the end
+of the lost trail. His nose touched a brown feather, another, and he
+glided back to the fir tip. A drop of blood was soaking slowly into a
+dead leaf. The marten thrust his nose into it. One long sniff, while
+his eyes blazed; then he raised his head, cried out once savagely, and
+glided away on the back track.
+
+
+
+
+IV. KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT.
+
+[Illustration: Kookooskoos]
+
+
+Kookooskoos is the big brown owl, the _Bubo Virginianus_, or Great
+Horned Owl of the books. But his Indian name is best. Almost any night
+in autumn, if you leave the town and go out towards the big woods, you
+can hear him calling it, _Koo-koo-skoos, koooo, kooo_, down in the
+swamp.
+
+Kookooskoos is always catching the wrong rat. The reason is that he is
+a great hunter, and thinks that every furry thing which moves must be
+game; and so he is like the fool sportsman who shoots at a sound, or a
+motion in the bushes, before finding out what makes it. Sometimes the
+rat turns out to be a skunk, or a weasel; sometimes your pet cat; and,
+once in a lifetime, it is your own fur cap, or even your head; and
+then you feel the weight and the edge of Kookooskoos' claws. But he
+never learns wisdom by mistakes; for, spite of his grave appearance,
+he is excitable as a Frenchman; and so, whenever anything stirs in the
+bushes and a bit of fur appears, he cries out to himself, _A rat,
+Kookoo! a rabbit!_ and swoops on the instant.
+
+Rats and rabbits are his favorite food, by the way, and he never lets
+a chance go by of taking them into camp. I think I never climbed to
+his nest without finding plenty of the fur of both animals to tell of
+his skill in hunting.
+
+One evening in the twilight, as I came home from hunting in the big
+woods, I heard the sound of deer feeding just ahead. I stole forward
+to the edge of a thicket and stood there motionless, looking and
+listening intently. My cap was in my pocket, and only my head appeared
+above the low firs that sheltered me. Suddenly, without noise or
+warning of any kind, I received a sharp blow on the head from behind,
+as if some one had struck me with a thorny stick. I turned quickly,
+surprised and a good bit startled; for I thought myself utterly alone
+in the woods--and I was. There was nobody there. Not a sound, not a
+motion broke the twilight stillness. Something trickled on my neck; I
+put up my hand, to find my hair already wet with blood. More startled
+than ever, I sprang through the thicket, looking, listening everywhere
+for sight or sound of my enemy. Still no creature bigger than a wood
+mouse; no movement save that of nodding fir tips; no sound but the
+thumping of my own heart, and, far behind me, a sudden rush and a bump
+or two as the frightened deer broke away; then perfect stillness
+again, as if nothing had ever lived in the thickets.
+
+I was little more than a boy; and I went home that night more puzzled
+and more frightened than I have ever been, before or since, in the
+woods. I ran into the doctor's office on my way. He found three cuts
+in my scalp, and below them two shorter ones, where pointed things
+seemed to have been driven through to the bone. He looked at me
+queerly when I told my story. Of course he did not believe me, and I
+made no effort to persuade him. Indeed, I scarcely believed myself.
+But for the blood which stained my handkerchief, and the throbbing
+pain in my head, I should have doubted the reality of the whole
+experience.
+
+That night I started up out of sleep, some time towards morning, and
+said before I was half awake: "It was an _owl_ that hit you on the
+head--of course it was an owl!" Then I remembered that, years before,
+an older boy had a horned owl, which he had taken from a nest, and
+which he kept loose in a dark garret over the shed. None of us younger
+boys dared go up to the garret, for the owl was always hungry, and the
+moment a boy's head appeared through the scuttle the owl said _Hoooo!_
+and swooped for it. So we used to get acquainted with the big pet by
+pushing in a dead rat, or a squirrel, or a chicken, on the end of a
+stick, and climbing in ourselves afterwards.
+
+As I write, the whole picture comes back to me again vividly; the
+dark, cobwebby old garret, pierced here and there by a pencil of
+light, in which the motes were dancing; the fierce bird down on the
+floor in the darkest corner, horns up, eyes gleaming, feathers all
+a-bristle till he looked big as a bushel basket in the dim light,
+standing on his game with one foot and tearing it savagely to pieces
+with the other, snapping his beak and gobbling up feathers, bones and
+all, in great hungry mouthfuls; and, over the scuttle, two or three
+small boys staring in eager curiosity, but clinging to each other's
+coats fearfully, ready to tumble down the ladder with a yell at the
+first hostile demonstration.
+
+The next afternoon I was back in the big woods to investigate. Fifty
+feet behind the thicket where I had been struck was a tall dead stub
+overlooking a little clearing. "That's his watch tower," I thought.
+"While I was watching the deer, he was up there watching my head, and
+when it moved he swooped."
+
+I had no intention of giving him another flight at the same game, but
+hid my fur cap some distance out in the clearing, tied a long string
+to it, went back into the thicket with the other end of the string,
+and sat down to wait. A low _Whooo-hoo-hoo!_ came from across the
+valley to tell me I was not the only watcher in the woods.
+
+Towards dusk I noticed suddenly that the top of the old stub looked a
+bit peculiar, but it was some time before I made out a big owl sitting
+up there. I had no idea how long he had been there, nor whence he
+came. His back was towards me; he sat up very straight and still, so
+as to make himself just a piece, the tip end, of the stub. As I
+watched, he hooted once and bent forward to listen. Then I pulled on
+my string.
+
+With the first rustle of a leaf he whirled and poised forward, in the
+intense attitude an eagle takes when he sights the prey. On the
+instant he had sighted the cap, wriggling in and out among the low
+bushes, and swooped for it like an arrow. Just as he dropped his legs
+to strike, I gave a sharp pull, and the cap jumped from under him. He
+missed his strike, but wheeled like a fury and struck again. Another
+jerk, and again he missed. Then he was at the thicket where I stood;
+his fierce yellow eyes glared straight into mine for a startled
+instant, and he brushed me with his wings as he sailed away into the
+shadow of the spruces.
+
+Small doubt now that I had seen my assailant of the night before; for
+an owl has regular hunting grounds, and uses the same watch towers
+night after night. He had seen my head in the thicket, and struck at
+the first movement. Perceiving his mistake, he kept straight on over
+my head; so of course there was nothing in sight when I turned. As an
+owl's flight is perfectly noiseless (the wing feathers are wonderfully
+soft, and all the lamin� are drawn out into hair points, so that the
+wings never whirr nor rustle like other birds') I had heard nothing,
+though he passed close enough to strike, and I was listening intently.
+And so another mystery of the woods was made plain by a little
+watching.
+
+Years afterwards, the knowledge gained stood me in good stead in
+clearing up another mystery. It was in a lumber camp--always a
+superstitious place--in the heart of a Canada forest. I had followed a
+wandering herd of caribou too far one day, and late in the afternoon
+found myself alone at a river, some twenty miles from my camp, on the
+edge of the barren grounds. Somewhere above me I knew that a crew of
+lumbermen were at work; so I headed up river to find their camp, if
+possible, and avoid sleeping out in the snow and bitter cold. It was
+long after dark, and the moon was flooding forest and river with a
+wonderful light, when I at last caught sight of the camp. The click of
+my snowshoes brought a dozen big men to the door. At that moment I
+felt rather than saw that they seemed troubled and alarmed at seeing
+me alone; but I was too tired to notice, and no words save those of
+welcome were spoken until I had eaten heartily. Then, as I started out
+for another look at the wild beauty of the place under the moonlight,
+a lumberman followed and touched me on the shoulder.
+
+"Best not go far from camp alone, sir. 'T isn't above safe
+hereabouts," he said in a low voice. I noticed that he glanced back
+over his shoulder as he spoke.
+
+"But why?" I objected. "There's nothing in these woods to be afraid
+of."
+
+"Come back to camp and I'll tell you. It's warmer there," he said. And
+I followed to hear a strange story,--how "Andy there" was sitting on a
+stump, smoking his pipe in the twilight, when he was struck and cut on
+the head from behind; and when he sprang up to look, there was nothing
+there, nor any track save his own in the snow. The next night
+Gillie's fur cap had been snatched from his head, and when _he_ turned
+there was nobody in sight; and when he burst into camp, with all his
+wits frightened out of him, he could scarcely speak, and his face was
+deathly white. Other uncanny things had happened since, in the same
+way, and coupled with a bad accident on the river, which the men
+thought was an omen, they had put the camp into such a state of
+superstitious fear that no one ventured alone out of doors after
+nightfall.
+
+I thought of Kookooskoos and my own head, but said nothing. They would
+only have resented the suggestion.
+
+Next day I found my caribou, and returned to the lumber camp before
+sunset. At twilight there was Kookooskoos, an enormous fellow, looking
+like the end of a big spruce stub, keeping sharp watch over the
+clearing, and fortunately behind the camp where he could not see the
+door. I called the men and set them crouching in the snow under the
+low eaves.--"Stay there a minute and I'll show you the ghost." That
+was all I told them.
+
+Taking the skin of a hare which I had shot that day, I hoisted it
+cautiously on a stick, the lumbermen watching curiously. A slight
+scratch of the stick, a movement of the fur along the splits, then a
+great dark shadow shot over our heads. It struck the stick sharply
+and swept on and up into the spruces across the clearing, taking
+Bunny's skin with it.
+
+Then one big lumberman, who saw the point, jumped up with a yell and
+danced a jig in the snow, like a schoolboy. There was no need of
+further demonstration with a cap; and nobody volunteered his head for
+a final experiment; but all remembered seeing the owl on his nightly
+watch, and knew something of his swooping habits. Of course some were
+incredulous at first, and had a dozen questions and objections when we
+were in camp. No one likes to have a good ghost story spoiled; and,
+besides, where superstition is, there the marvelous is most easily
+believed. It is only the simple truth that is doubted. So I spent half
+the night in convincing them that they _had_ been brought up in the
+woods to be scared by an owl.
+
+Poor Kookooskoos! they shot him next night on his watch tower, and
+nailed him to the camp door as a warning.
+
+I discovered another curious thing about Kookooskoos that night when I
+watched to find out what had struck me. I found out why he hoots.
+Sometimes, if he is a young owl, he hoots for practice, or to learn
+how; and then he makes an awful noise of it, a rasping screech, before
+his voice deepens. And if you are camping near and are new to the
+woods, the chances are that you lie awake and shiver; for there is no
+other sound like it in the wilderness. Sometimes, when you climb to
+his nest, he has a terrifying _hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo_, running up
+and down a deep guttural scale, like a fiendish laugh, accompanied by
+a vicious snapping of the beak. And if you are a small boy, and it is
+towards twilight, you climb down the tree quick and let his nest
+alone. But the regular _whooo-hoo-hoo_, _whooo-hoo_, always five
+notes, with the second two very short, is a hunting call, and he uses
+it to alarm the game. That is queer hunting; but his ears account for
+it.
+
+If you separate the feathers on Kookooskoos' head, you will find an
+enormous ear-opening running from above his eye halfway round his
+face. And the ear within is so marvelously sensitive that it can hear
+the rustle of a rat in the grass, or the scrape of a sparrow's toes on
+a branch fifty feet away. So he sits on his watch tower, so still that
+he is never noticed, and as twilight comes on, when he can see best,
+he hoots suddenly and listens. The sound has a muffled quality which
+makes it hard to locate, and it frightens every bird and small animal
+within hearing; for all know Kookooskoos, and how fierce he is. As the
+terrifying sound rolls out of the air so near them, fur and feathers
+shiver with fright. A rabbit stirs in his form; a partridge shakes on
+his branch; the mink stops hunting frogs at the brook; the skunk takes
+his nose out of the hole where he is eating sarsaparilla roots. A leaf
+stirs, a toe scrapes, and instantly Kookooskoos is there. His fierce
+eyes glare in; his great claws drop; one grip, and it's all over. For
+the very sight of him scares the little creatures so, that there is no
+life left in them to cry out or to run away.
+
+A nest which I found a few years ago shows how well this kind of
+hunting succeeds. It was in a gloomy evergreen swamp, in a big tree,
+some eighty feet from the ground. I found it by a pile of pellets of
+hair and feathers at the foot of the tree; for the owl devours every
+part of his game, and after digestion is complete, feathers, bones,
+and hair are disgorged in small balls, like so many sparrow heads.
+When I looked up, there at the top was a huge mass of sticks, which
+had been added to year after year till it was nearly three feet
+across, and half as thick. Kookooskoos was not there. He had heard me
+coming and slipped away silently.
+
+Wishing to be sure the nest was occupied before trying the hard climb,
+I went away as far as I could see the nest and hid in a thicket.
+Presently a very large owl came back and stood by the nest. Soon
+after, a smaller bird, the male, glided up beside her. Then I came on
+cautiously, watching to see what they would do.
+
+At the first crack of a twig both birds started forward the male
+slipped away; the female dropped below the nest, and stood behind a
+limb, just her face peering through a crotch in my direction. Had I
+not known she was there, I might have looked the tree over twenty
+times without finding her. And there she stayed hidden till I was
+halfway up the tree.
+
+When I peered at last over the edge of the big nest, after a
+desperately hard climb, there was a bundle of dark gray down in a
+little hollow in the middle. It touched me at the time that the little
+ones rested on a feather bed pulled from the mother bird's own breast.
+I brushed the down with my fingers. Instantly two heads came up, fuzzy
+gray heads, with black pointed beaks, and beautiful hazel eyes, and a
+funny long pin-feather over each ear, which made them look like little
+wise old clerks just waked up. When I touched them again they
+staggered up and opened their mouths,--enormous mouths for such little
+fellows; then, seeing that I was an intruder, they tried to bristle
+their few pin-feathers and snap their beaks.
+
+They were fat as two aldermen; and no wonder. Placed around the edge
+of the big nest were a red squirrel, a rat, a chicken, a few frogs'
+legs, and a rabbit. Fine fare that, at eighty feet from the ground.
+Kookooskoos had had good hunting. All the game was partly eaten,
+showing I had disturbed their dinner; and only the hinder parts were
+left, showing that owls like the head and brains best. I left them
+undisturbed and came away; for I wanted to watch the young grow--which
+they did marvelously, and were presently learning to hoot. But I have
+been less merciful to the great owls ever since, thinking of the
+enormous destruction of game represented in raising two or three such
+young savages, year after year, in the same swamp.
+
+Once, at twilight, I shot a big owl that was sitting on a limb facing
+me, with what appeared to be an enormously long tail hanging below the
+limb. The tail turned out to be a large mink, just killed, with a
+beautiful skin that put five dollars into a boy's locker. Another time
+I shot one that sailed over me; when he came down, there was a ruffed
+grouse, still living, in his claws. Another time I could not touch one
+that I had killed for the overpowering odor which was in his feathers,
+showing that _Mephitis_, the skunk, never loses his head when
+attacked. But Kookooskoos, like the fox, cares little for such
+weapons, and in the spring, when game is scarce, swoops for and kills
+a skunk wherever he finds him prowling away from his den in the
+twilight.
+
+The most savage bit of his hunting that I ever saw was one dark winter
+afternoon, on the edge of some thick woods. I was watching a cat, a
+half-wild creature, that was watching a red squirrel making a great
+fuss over some nuts which he had hidden, and which he claimed somebody
+had stolen. Somewhere behind us, Kookooskoos was watching from a pine
+tree. The squirrel was chattering in the midst of a whirlwind of
+leaves and empty shells which he had thrown out on the snow from under
+the wall; behind him the cat, creeping nearer and nearer, had crouched
+with blazing eyes and quivering muscles, her whole attention fixed on
+the spring, when broad wings shot silently over my hiding place and
+fell like a shadow on the cat. One set of strong claws gripped her
+behind the ears; the others were fastened like a vise in the spine.
+Generally one such grip is enough; but the cat was strong, and at the
+first touch sprang away. In a moment the owl was after her, floating,
+hovering above, till the right moment came, when he dropped and struck
+again. Then the cat whirled and fought like a fury. For a few moments
+there was a desperate battle, fur and feathers flying, the cat
+screeching like mad, the owl silent as death. Then the great claws did
+their work. When I straightened up from my thicket, Kookooskoos was
+standing on his game, tearing off the flesh with his feet, and
+carrying it up to his mouth with the same movement, swallowing
+everything alike, as if famished.
+
+Over them the squirrel, which had whisked up a tree at the first
+alarm, was peeking with evil eyes over the edge of a limb, snickering
+at the blood-stained snow and the dead cat, scolding, barking,
+threatening the owl for having disturbed the search for his stolen
+walnuts.
+
+I caught that same owl soon after in a peculiar way. A farmer near by
+told me that an owl was taking his chickens regularly. Undoubtedly the
+bird had been driven southward by the severe winter, and had not taken
+up regular hunting grounds until he caught the cat. Then came the
+chickens. I set up a pole, on the top of which was nailed a bit of
+board for a platform. On the platform was fastened a small steel trap,
+and under it hung a dead chicken. The next morning there was
+Kookooskoos on the platform, one foot in the trap, at which he was
+pulling awkwardly. Owls, from their peculiar ways of hunting, are
+prone to light on stubs and exposed branches; and so Kookooskoos had
+used my pole as a watch tower before carrying off his game.
+
+There is another way in which he is easily fooled. In the early
+spring, when he is mating, and again in the autumn, when the young
+birds are well fed and before they have learned much, you can bring
+him close up to you by imitating his hunting call. In the wilderness,
+where these birds are plenty, I have often had five or six about me at
+once. You have only to go well out beyond your tent, and sit down
+quietly, making yourself part of the place. Give the call a few times,
+and if there is a young bird near with a full stomach, he will answer,
+and presently come nearer. Soon he is in the tree over your head, and
+if you keep perfectly still he will set up a great hooting that you
+have called him and now do not answer. Others are attracted by his
+calling; they come in silently from all directions; the outcry is
+startling. The call is more nervous, more eerie, much more terrifying
+close at hand than when heard in the distance. They sweep about like
+great dark shadows, hoo-hoo-hooing and frolicking in their own uncanny
+way; then go off to their separate watch towers and their hunting. But
+the chances are that you will be awakened with a start more than once
+in the night, as some inquisitive young owl comes back and gives the
+hunting call in the hope of finding out what the first summons was all
+about.
+
+
+
+
+V. CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG.
+
+[Illustration: Chigwooltz]
+
+
+I was watching for a bear one day by an alder point, when Chigwooltz
+came swimming in from the lily pads in great curiosity to see what I
+was doing under the alders. He was an enormous frog, dull green with a
+yellowish vest--which showed that he was a male--but with the most
+brilliant ear drums I had ever seen. They fairly glowed with
+iridescent color, each in its ring of bright yellow. When I tried to
+catch him (very quietly, for the bear was somewhere just above on the
+ridge) in order to examine these drums, he dived under the canoe and
+watched me from a distance.
+
+In front of me, in the shallow water along shore, four more large
+frogs were sunning themselves among the lily pads. I watched them
+carelessly while waiting for the bear. After an hour or two I noticed
+that three of these frogs changed their positions slightly, turning
+from time to time so as to warm the entire body at nature's fireplace.
+But the fourth was more deliberate and philosophical, thinking
+evidently that if he simply sat still long enough the sun would do the
+turning. When I came, about eleven o'clock, he was sitting on the
+shore by a green stone, his fore feet lapped by tiny ripples, the sun
+full on his back. For three hours, while I watched there, he never
+moved a muscle. Then the bear came, and I left him for more exciting
+things.
+
+Late in the afternoon I came back to get some of the big frogs for
+breakfast. Chigwooltz, he with the ear drums, was the first to see me,
+and came pushing his way among the lily pads toward the canoe. But
+when I dangled a red ibis fly in front of him, he dived promptly, and
+I saw his head come up by a black root, where he sat, thinking himself
+invisible, and watched me.
+
+Chigwooltz the second, he of the green stone and the patient
+disposition, was still sitting in the same place. The sun had turned
+round; it was now warming his other side. His all-day sun bath
+surprised me so that I let him alone, to see how long he would sit
+still, and went fishing for other frogs.
+
+Two big ones showed their heads among the pads some twenty feet apart.
+Pushing up so as to make a triangle with my canoe, I dangled a red
+ibis impartially between them. For two or three long minutes neither
+moved so much as an eyelid. Then one seemed to wake suddenly from a
+trance, or to be touched by an electric wire, for he came scrambling
+in a desperate hurry over the lily pads. Swimming was too slow; he
+jumped fiercely out of water at the red challenge, making a great
+splash and commotion.
+
+Fishing for big frogs, by the way, is no tame sport. The red seems to
+excite them tremendously, and they take the fly like a black salmon.
+
+But the moment the first frog started, frog number two waked up and
+darted forward, making less noise but coming more swiftly. The first
+frog had jumped once for the fly and missed it, when the other leaped
+upon him savagely, and a fight began, while the ibis lay neglected on
+a lily pad. They pawed and bit each other fiercely for several
+minutes; then the second frog, a little smaller than the other, got
+the grip he wanted and held it. He clasped his fore legs tight about
+his rival's neck and began to strangle him slowly. I knew well how
+strong Chigwooltz is in his forearms, and that his fightings and
+wrestlings are desperate affairs; but I did not know till then how
+savage he can be. He had gripped from behind by a clever dive, so as
+to use his weight when the right moment came. Tighter and tighter he
+hugged; the big frog's eyes seemed bursting from his head, and his
+mouth was forced slowly open. Then his savage opponent lunged upon him
+with his weight, and forced his head under water to finish him.
+
+The whole thing seemed scarcely more startling to the luckless big
+frog than to the watcher in the canoe. It was all so brutal, so
+deliberately planned! The smaller frog, knowing that he was no match
+for the other in strength, had waited cunningly till he was all
+absorbed in the red fly, and then stole upon him, intending to finish
+him first and the little red thing afterwards. He would have done it
+too; for the big frog was at his last gasp, when I interfered and put
+them both in my net.
+
+Meanwhile a third frog had come _walloping_ over the lily pads from
+somewhere out of sight, and grabbed the fly while the other two were
+fighting about it. It was he who first showed me a curious frog trick.
+When I lifted him from the water on the end of my line, he raised his
+hands above his head, as if he had been a man, and grasped the line,
+and tried to lift himself, hand over hand, so as to take the strain
+from his mouth.--And I could never catch another frog like that.
+
+Next morning, as I went to the early fishing, Chigwooltz, the
+patient, sat by the same stone, his fore feet at the edge of the same
+bronze lily leaf. At noon he was still there; in twenty-four hours at
+least he had not moved a muscle.
+
+At twilight I was following a bear along the shore. It was the
+restless season, when bears are moving constantly; scarcely a twilight
+passed that I did not meet one or more on their wanderings. This one
+was heading for the upper end of the lake, traveling in the shallow
+water near shore; and I was just behind him, stealing along in my
+canoe to see what queer thing he would do. He was in no hurry, as most
+other bears were, but went nosing along shore, acting much as a fat
+pig would in the same place. As he approached the alder point he
+stopped suddenly, and twisted his head a bit, and set his ears, as a
+dog does that sees something very interesting. Then he began to steal
+forward. Could it be--I shot my canoe forward--yes, it was Chigwooltz,
+still sitting by the green stone, with his eye, like Bunsby's, on the
+coast of Greenland. In thirty-two hours, to my knowledge, he had not
+stirred.
+
+Mooween the bear crept nearer; he was crouching now like a cat,
+stealing along in the soft mud behind Chigwooltz so as to surprise
+him. I saw him raise one paw slowly, cautiously, high above his head.
+Down it came, _souse_! sending up a shower of mud and water. And
+Chigwooltz the restful, who could sit still thirty-two hours without
+getting stiff in the joints, and then dodge the sweep of Mooween's
+paw, went splashing away _hippety-ippety_ over the lily pads to some
+water grass, where he said _K'tung!_ and disappeared for good.
+
+A few days later Simmo and I moved camp to a grove of birches just
+above the alder point. From behind my tent an old game path led down
+to the bay where the big frogs lived. There were scores of them there;
+the chorus at night, with its multitude of voices running from a
+whistling treble to deep, deep bass, was at times tremendous. It was
+here that I had the first good opportunity of watching frogs feeding.
+
+Chigwooltz, I found, is a perfect gourmand and a cannibal, eating,
+besides his regular diet of flies and beetles and water snails, young
+frogs, and crawfish, and turtles, and fish of every kind. But few have
+ever seen him at his hunting, for he is active only at night or on
+dark days.
+
+I used to watch them from the shore or from my canoe at twilight. Just
+outside the lily pads a shoal of minnows would be playing at the
+surface, or small trout would be rising freely for the night insects.
+Then, if you watched sharply, you would see gleaming points of light,
+the eyes of Chigwooltz, stealing out, with barely a ripple, to the
+edge of the pads. And then, when some big feeding trout drove the
+minnows or small fry close in, there would be a heavy plunge from the
+shadow of the pads; and you would hear Chigwooltz splashing if the
+fish were a larger one than he expected.
+
+That is why small frogs are so deadly afraid if you take them outside
+the fringe of lily pads. They know that big hungry trout feed in from
+the deeps, and that big frogs, savage cannibals every one, watch out
+from the shadowy fringe of water plants. If you drop a little frog
+there, in clear water, he will shoot in as fast as his frightened legs
+will drive him, swimming first on top to avoid fish, diving deep as he
+reaches the pads to avoid his hungry relatives; and so in to shallow
+water and thick stems, where he can dodge about and the big frogs
+cannot follow.
+
+All sorts and conditions of frogs lived in that little bay. There was
+one inquisitive fellow, who always came out of the pads and swam as
+near as he could get whenever I appeared on the shore. Another would
+sit in his favorite spot, under a stranded log, and let me come as
+close as I would; but the moment I dangled the red ibis fly in front
+of him, he would disappear like a wink, and not show himself again.
+Another would follow the fly in a wild kangaroo dance over the lily
+pads, going round and round the canoe as if bewitched, and would do
+his best to climb in after the bit of color when I pulled it up slowly
+over the bark. He afforded me so much good fun that I could not eat
+him; though I always stopped to give him another dance, whenever I
+went fishing for other frogs just like him. Further along shore lived
+another, a perfect savage, so wild that I could never catch him, which
+strangled or drowned two big frogs in a week, to my certain knowledge.
+And then, one night when I was trying to find my canoe which I had
+lost in the darkness, I came upon a frog migration, dozens and dozens
+of them, all hopping briskly in the same direction. They had left the
+stream, driven by some strange instinct, just like rats or squirrels,
+and were going through the woods to the unknown destination that
+beckoned them so strongly that they could not but follow.
+
+The most curious and interesting bit of their strange life came out at
+night, when they were fascinated by my light. I used sometimes to set
+a candle on a piece of board for a float, and place it in the water
+close to shore, where the ripples would set it dancing gently. Then I
+would place a little screen of bark at the shore end of the float,
+and sit down behind it in darkness.
+
+[Illustration: Chigwooltz]
+
+Presently two points of light would begin to shine, then to
+scintillate, out among the lily pads, and Chigwooltz would come
+stealing in, his eyes growing bigger and brighter with wonder. He
+would place his forearms akimbo on the edge of the float, and lift
+himself up a bit, like a little old man, and stare steadfastly at the
+light. And there he would stay as long as I let him, just staring and
+blinking.
+
+Soon two other points of light would come stealing in from the other
+side, and another frog would set his elbows on the float and stare
+hard across at the first-comer. And then two more shining points, and
+two more, till twelve or fifteen frogs were gathered about my beacon,
+as thick as they could find elbow room on the float, all staring and
+blinking like so many strange water owls come up from the bottom to
+debate weighty things, with a little flickering will-o'-the-wisp
+nodding grave assent in the midst of them. But never a word was
+spoken; the silence was perfect.
+
+Sometimes one, more fascinated or more curious than the others, would
+climb onto the float, and put his nose solemnly into the light. Then
+there would be a loud sizzle, a jump, and a splash; the candle would
+go out, and the wondering circle of frogs scatter to the lily pads
+again, all swimming as if in a trance, dipping their heads under water
+to wash the light from their bewildered eyes.
+
+They were quite fearless, almost senseless, at such times. I would
+stretch out my hand from the shadow, pick up an unresisting frog that
+threatened too soon to climb onto the float, and examine him at
+leisure. But Chigwooltz is wedded to his idols; the moment I released
+him he would go, fast as his legs could carry him, to put his elbows
+on the float and stare at the light again.
+
+Among the frogs, and especially among the toads, as among most wild
+animals, certain individuals attach themselves strongly to man, drawn
+doubtless by some unknown but no less strongly felt attraction. It was
+so there in the wilderness. The first morning after our arrival at the
+birch grove I was down at the shore, preparing a trout for baking in
+the ashes, when Chigwooltz, of the ear drums, biggest of all the
+frogs, came from among the lily pads. He had lost all fear apparently;
+he swam directly up to me, touching my hands with his nose, and even
+crawling out to my feet in the greatest curiosity.
+
+After that he took up his abode near the foot of the game path. I had
+only to splash the water there with my finger when he would come from
+beside a green stone, or from under a log or the lily pads--for he
+had a dozen hiding places--and swim up to me to be fed, or petted, or
+to have his back scratched.
+
+He ate all sorts of things, insects, bread, beef, game and fish,
+either raw or cooked. I would attach a bit of meat to a string or
+straw, and wiggle it before him, to make it seem alive. The moment he
+saw it (he had a queer way sometimes of staring hard at a thing
+without seeing it) he would crouch and creep towards it, nearer and
+nearer, softly and more softly, like a cat stalking a chipmunk. Then
+there would be a red flash and the meat would be gone. The red flash
+was his tongue, which is attached at the outer end and folds back in
+his mouth. It is, moreover, large and sticky, and he can throw it out
+and back like lightning. All you see is the red flash of it, and his
+game is gone.
+
+One day, to try the effects of nicotine on a new subject, I took a bit
+of Simmo's black tobacco and gave it to Chigwooltz. He ate it
+thankfully, as he did everything else I gave him. In a little while he
+grew uneasy, sitting up and rubbing his belly with his fore paws.
+Presently he brought his stomach up into his mouth, turned it inside
+out to get rid of the tobacco, washed it thoroughly in the lake,
+swallowed it down again, and was ready for his bread and beef. A most
+convenient arrangement that; and also a perfectly unbiased opinion on
+a much debated subject.
+
+Chigwooltz, unlike many of my pets, was not in the least dependent on
+my bounty. Indeed, he was a remarkable hunter on his own account, and
+what he took from me he took as hospitality, not charity. One morning
+he came to me with the tail of a small trout sticking out of his
+mouth. The rest of the fish was below, being digested. Another day,
+towards twilight, I saw him resting on the lily pads, looking very
+full, with a suspicious-looking object curling out over his under lip.
+I wiggled my finger in the water, and he came from pure sociability,
+for he was beyond eating any more. The suspicious-looking object
+proved to be a bird's foot, and beside it was a pointed wing tip. That
+was too much for my curiosity. I opened his mouth and pulled out the
+bird with some difficulty, for Chigwooltz had been engaged some time
+in the act of swallowing his game and had it well down. It proved to
+be a full-grown male swallow, without a mark anywhere to show how he
+had come by his death. Chigwooltz looked at me reproachfully, but
+swallowed his game promptly the moment I had finished examining it.
+
+There was small doubt in my mind that he had caught his bird fairly,
+by a quick spring as the swallow touched the water almost at his
+nose, near one of his numerous lurking places. Still it puzzled me a
+good deal till one early morning, when I saw him in broad daylight do
+a much more difficult thing than snapping up a swallow.
+
+I was coming down the game path to the shore when a bird, a tree
+sparrow I thought, flew to the ground just ahead of me, and hopped to
+the water to drink. I watched him a moment curiously, then with
+intense interest as I saw a ripple steal out of the lily pads towards
+him. The ripple was Chigwooltz.
+
+The sparrow had finished drinking and was absorbed in a morning bath.
+Chigwooltz stole nearer and nearer, sinking himself till only his eyes
+showed above water. The ripple that flowed away on either side was
+gentle as that of a floating leaf. Then, just as the bird had sipped
+and lifted its head for a last swallow, Chigwooltz hurled himself out
+of water. One snap of his big mouth, and the sparrow was done for.
+
+An hour later, when I came down to my canoe, he was sitting low on the
+lily pads, winking sleepily now and then, with eight little sparrow's
+toes curling over the rim of his under lip, like a hornpout's
+whiskers.
+
+
+
+
+VI. CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE.
+
+[Illustration: Old Whitehead]
+
+
+"Here he is again! here's Old Whitehead, robbing the fish-hawk."
+
+I started up from the little _commoosie_ beyond the fire, at Gillie's
+excited cry, and ran to join him on the shore. A glance out over
+Caribou Point to the big bay, where innumerable whitefish were
+shoaling, showed me another chapter in a long but always interesting
+story. Ismaquehs, the fish-hawk, had risen from the lake with a big
+fish, and was doing his best to get away to his nest, where his young
+ones were clamoring. Over him soared the eagle, still as fate and as
+sure, now dropping to flap a wing in Ismaquehs' face, now touching him
+with his great talons gently, as if to say, "Do you feel that,
+Ismaquehs? If I grip once 't will be the end of you and your fish
+together. And what will the little ones do then, up in the nest on
+the old pine? Better drop him peacefully; you can catch
+another.--_Drop him_! I say."
+
+[Illustration: Ismaquehs]
+
+Up to that moment the eagle had merely bothered the big hawk's flight,
+with a gentle reminder now and then that he meant no harm, but wanted
+the fish which he could not catch himself. Now there was a change, a
+flash of the king's temper. With a roar of wings he whirled round the
+hawk like a tempest, bringing up short and fierce, squarely in his
+line of flight. There he poised on dark broad wings, his yellow eyes
+glaring fiercely into the shrinking soul of Ismaquehs, his talons
+drawn hard back for a deadly strike. And Simmo the Indian, who had run
+down to join me, muttered: "Cheplahgan mad now. Ismaquehs find-um out
+in a minute."
+
+But Ismaquehs knew just when to stop. With a cry of rage he dropped,
+or rather threw, his fish, hoping it would strike the water and be
+lost. On the instant the eagle wheeled out of the way and bent his
+head sharply. I had seen him fold wings and drop before, and had held
+my breath at the speed. But dropping was of no use now, for the fish
+fell faster. Instead he swooped downward, adding to the weight of his
+fall the push of his strong wings, glancing down like a bolt to catch
+the fish ere it struck the water, and rising again in a great
+curve--up and away steadily, evenly as the king should fly, to his
+own little ones far away on the mountain.
+
+Weeks before, I had had my introduction to Old Whitehead, as Gillie
+called him, on the Madawaska. We were pushing up river on our way to
+the wilderness, when a great outcry and the _bang-bang_ of a gun
+sounded just ahead. Dashing round a wooded bend, we came upon a man
+with a smoking gun, a boy up to his middle in the river, trying to get
+across, and, on the other side, a black sheep running about _baaing_
+at every jump.
+
+"He's taken the lamb; he's taken the lamb!" shouted the boy. Following
+the direction of his pointing finger, I saw Old Whitehead, a splendid
+bird, rising heavily above the tree-tops across the clearing. Reaching
+back almost instinctively, I clutched the heavy rifle which Gillie put
+into my hand and jumped out of the canoe; for with a rifle one wants
+steady footing. It was a long shot, but not so very difficult; Old
+Whitehead had got his bearings and was moving steadily, straight away.
+A second after the report of the rifle, we saw him hitch and swerve in
+the air; then two white quills came floating down, and as he turned we
+saw the break in his broad white tail. And that was the mark that we
+knew him by ever afterwards.
+
+That was nearly eighty miles by canoe from where we now stood, though
+scarcely ten in a straight line over the mountains; for the rivers and
+lakes we were following doubled back almost to the starting point; and
+the whole wild, splendid country was the eagle's hunting ground.
+Wherever I went I saw him, following the rivers for stranded trout and
+salmon, or floating high in air where he could overlook two or three
+wilderness lakes, with as many honest fish-hawks catching their
+dinners. I had promised the curator of a museum that I would get him
+an eagle that summer, and so took to hunting the great bird
+diligently. But hunting was of little use, except to teach me many of
+his ways and habits; for he seemed to have eyes and ears all over him;
+and whether I crept like a snake through the woods, or floated like a
+wild duck in my canoe over the water, he always saw or heard me, and
+was off before I could get within shooting distance.
+
+Then I tried to trap him. I placed two large trout, with a steel trap
+between them, in a shallow spot on the river that I could watch from
+my camp on a bluff, half a mile below. Next day Gillie, who was more
+eager than I, set up a shout; and running out I saw Old Whitehead
+standing in the shallows and flopping about the trap. We jumped into a
+canoe and pushed up river in hot haste, singing in exultation that we
+had the fierce old bird at last. When we doubled the last point that
+hid the shallows, there was Old Whitehead, still tugging away at a
+fish, and splashing the water not thirty yards away. I shall not soon
+forget his attitude and expression as we shot round the point, his
+body erect and rigid, his wings half spread, his head thrust forward,
+eyelids drawn straight, and a strong fierce gleam of freedom and utter
+wildness in his bright eyes. So he stood, a magnificent creature, till
+we were almost upon him,--when he rose quietly, taking one of the
+trout. The other was already in his stomach. He was not in the trap at
+all, but had walked carefully round it. The splashing was made in
+tearing one fish to pieces with his claws, and freeing the other from
+a stake that held it.
+
+After that he would not go near the shallows; for a new experience had
+come into his life, leaving its shadow dark behind it. He who was king
+of all he surveyed from the old blasted pine on the crag's top, who
+had always heretofore been the hunter, now knew what it meant to be
+hunted. And the fear of it was in his eyes, I think, and softened
+their fierce gleam when I looked into them again, weeks later, by his
+own nest on the mountain.
+
+Simmo entered also into our hunting, but without enthusiasm or
+confidence. He had chased the same eagle before--all one summer, in
+fact, when a sportsman, whom he was guiding, had offered him twenty
+dollars for the royal bird's skin. But Old Whitehead still wore it
+triumphantly; and Simmo prophesied for him long life and a natural
+death. "No use hunt-um dat heagle," he said simply. "I try once an'
+can't get near him. He see everyt'ing; and wot he don't see, he hear.
+'Sides, he kin _feel_ danger. Das why he build nest way off, long
+ways, O don' know where." This last with a wave of his arm to include
+the universe. Cheplahgan, Old Cloud Wings, he proudly called the bird
+that had defied him in a summer's hunting.
+
+At first I had hunted him like any other savage; partly, of course, to
+get his skin for the curator; partly, perhaps, to save the settler's
+lambs over on the Madawaska; but chiefly just to kill him, to exult in
+his death flaps, and to rid the woods of a cruel tyrant. Gradually,
+however, a change came over me as I hunted; I sought him less and less
+for his skin and his life, and more and more for himself, to know all
+about him. I used to watch him by the hour from my camp on the big
+lake, sailing quietly over Caribou Point, after he had eaten with his
+little ones, and was disposed to let Ismaquehs go on with his fishing
+in peace. He would set his great wings to the breeze and sit like a
+kite in the wind, mounting steadily in an immense spiral, up and up,
+without the shadow of effort, till the eye grew dizzy in following.
+And I loved to watch him, so strong, so free, so sure of
+himself--round and round, up and ever up, without hurry, without
+exertion; and every turn found the heavens nearer and the earth spread
+wider below. Now head and tail gleam silver white in the sunshine now
+he hangs motionless, a cross of jet that a lady might wear at her
+throat, against the clear, unfathomable blue of the June
+heavens--there! he is lost in the blue, so high that I cannot see any
+more. But even as I turn away he plunges down into vision again,
+dropping with folded wings straight down like a plummet, faster and
+faster, larger and larger, through a terrifying rush of air, till I
+spring to my feet and catch the breath, as if I myself were falling.
+And just before he dashes himself to pieces he turns in the air, head
+downward, and half spreads his wings, and goes shooting, slanting down
+towards the lake, then up in a great curve to the tree tops, where he
+can watch better what Kakagos, the rare woods-raven, is doing, and
+what game he is hunting. For that is what Cheplahgan came down in such
+a hurry to find out about.
+
+Again he would come in the early morning; sweeping up river as if he
+had already been a long day's journey, with the air of far-away and
+far-to-go in his onward rush. And if I were at the trout pools, and
+very still, I would hear the strong silken rustle of his wings as he
+passed. At midday I would see him poised over the highest mountain-top
+northward, at an enormous altitude, where the imagination itself could
+not follow the splendid sweep of his vision; and at evening he would
+cross the lake, moving westward into the sunset on tireless
+pinions--always strong, noble, magnificent in his power and
+loneliness, a perfect emblem of the great lonely magnificent
+wilderness.
+
+One day as I watched him, it swept over me suddenly that forest and
+river would be incomplete without him. The thought of this came back
+to me, and spared him to the wilderness, on the last occasion when I
+went hunting for his life.
+
+That was just after we reached the big lake, where I saw him robbing
+the fish-hawk. After much searching and watching I found a great log
+by the outlet where Old Whitehead often perched. There was a big eddy
+hard by, on the edge of a shallow, and he used to sit on the log,
+waiting for fish to come out where he could wade in and get them.
+There was a sickness among the suckers that year (it comes regularly
+every few years, as among rabbits), and they would come struggling out
+of the deep water to rest on the sand, only to be caught by the minks
+and fish-hawks and bears and Old Whitehead, all of whom were waiting
+and hungry for fish.
+
+For several days I put a big bait of trout and whitefish on the edge
+of the shallows. The first two baits were put out late in the
+afternoon, and a bear got them both the next night. Then I put them
+out in the early morning, and before noon Cheplahgan had found them.
+He came straight as a string from his watch place over the mountain,
+miles away, causing me to wonder greatly what strange sixth sense
+guided him; for sight and smell seemed equally out of the question.
+The next day he came again. Then I placed the best bait of all in the
+shallows, and hid in the dense underbrush near, with my gun.
+
+He came at last, after hours of waiting, dropping from above the
+tree-tops with a heavy rustling of pinions. And as he touched the old
+log, and spread his broad white tail, I saw and was proud of the gap
+which my bullet had made weeks before. He stood there a moment erect
+and splendid, head, neck, and tail a shining white; even the dark
+brown feathers of his body glinted in the bright sunshine. And he
+turned his head slowly from side to side, his keen eyes flashing, as
+if he would say, "Behold, a king!" to Chigwooltz the frog, and
+Tookhees the wood mouse, and to any other chance wild creature that
+might watch him from the underbrush at his unkingly act of feeding on
+dead fish. Then he hopped down--rather awkwardly, it must be
+confessed; for he is a creature of the upper deeps, who cannot bear to
+touch the earth--seized a fish, which he tore to pieces with his claws
+and ate greedily. Twice I tried to shoot him; but the thought of the
+wilderness without him was upon me, and held me back. Then, too, it
+seemed so mean to pot him from ambush when he had come down to earth,
+where he was at a disadvantage; and when he clutched some of the
+larger fish in his talons, and rose swiftly and bore away westward,
+all desire to kill him was gone. There were little Cloud Wings, it
+seemed, which I must also find and watch. After that I hunted him more
+diligently than before, but without my gun. And a curious desire,
+which I could not account for, took possession of me: to touch this
+untamed, untouched creature of the clouds and mountains.
+
+Next day I did it. There were thick bushes growing along one end of
+the old log on which the eagle rested. Into these I cut a tunnel with
+my hunting-knife, arranging the tops in such a way as to screen me
+more effectively. Then I put out my bait, a good two hours before the
+time of Old Whitehead's earliest appearance, and crawled into my den
+to wait.
+
+I had barely settled comfortably into my place, wondering how long
+human patience could endure the sting of insects and the hot close air
+without moving or stirring a leaf, when the heavy silken rustle
+sounded close at hand, and I heard the grip of his talons on the log.
+There he stood, at arm's length, turning his head uneasily, the light
+glinting on his white crest, the fierce, untamed flash in his bright
+eye. Never before had he seemed so big, so strong, so splendid; my
+heart jumped at the thought of him as our national emblem. I am glad
+still to have seen that emblem once, and felt the thrill of it.
+
+But I had little time to think, for Cheplahgan was restless. Some
+instinct seemed to warn him of a danger that he could not see. The
+moment his head was turned away, I stretched out my arm. Scarcely a
+leaf moved with the motion, yet he whirled like a flash and crouched
+to spring, his eyes glaring straight into mine with an intensity that
+I could scarce endure. Perhaps I was mistaken, but in that swift
+instant the hard glare in his eyes seemed to soften with fear, as he
+recognized me as the one thing in the wilderness that dared to hunt
+him, the king. My hand touched him fair on the shoulder; then he shot
+into the air, and went sweeping in great circles over the tree-tops,
+still looking down at the man, wondering and fearing at the way in
+which he had been brought into the man's power.
+
+But one thing he did not understand. Standing erect on the log, and
+looking up at him as he swept over me, I kept thinking, "I did it, I
+did it, Cheplahgan, old Cloud Wings. And I had grabbed your legs, and
+pinned you down, and tied you in a bag, and brought you to camp, but
+that I chose to let you go free. And that is better than shooting you.
+Now I shall find your little ones and touch them too."
+
+For several days I had been watching Old Whitehead's lines of flight,
+and had concluded that his nest was somewhere in the hills northwest
+of the big lake. I went there one afternoon, and while confused in the
+big timber, which gave no outlook in any direction, I saw, not Old
+Whitehead, but a larger eagle, his mate undoubtedly, flying straight
+westward with food towards a great cliff, that I had noticed with my
+glass one day from a mountain on the other side of the lake.
+
+When I went there, early next morning, it was Cheplahgan himself who
+showed me where his nest was. I was hunting along the foot of the
+cliff when, glancing back towards the lake, I saw him coming far
+away, and hid in the underbrush. He passed very near, and following, I
+saw him standing on a ledge near the top of the cliff. Just below him,
+in the top of a stunted tree growing out of the face of the rock was a
+huge mass of sticks that formed the nest, with a great mother-eagle
+standing by, feeding the little ones. Both birds started away silently
+when I appeared, but came back soon and swept back and forth over me,
+as I sat watching the nest and the face of the cliff through my glass.
+No need now of caution. Both birds seemed to know instinctively why I
+had come, and that the fate of the eaglets lay in my hands if I could
+but scale the cliff.
+
+It was scaring business, that three-hundred-foot climb up the sheer
+face of the mountain. Fortunately the rock was seamed and scarred with
+the wear of centuries; bushes and stunted trees grew out of countless
+crevices, which gave me sure footing, and sometimes a lift of a dozen
+feet or more on my way up. As I climbed, the eagles circled lower and
+lower; the strong rustling of their wings was about my head
+continually; they seemed to grow larger, fiercer, every moment, as my
+hold grew more precarious, and the earth and the pointed tree-tops
+dropped farther below. There was a good revolver in my pocket, to use
+in case of necessity; but had the great birds attacked me I should
+have fared badly, for at times I was obliged to grip hard with both
+hands, my face to the cliff, leaving the eagles free to strike from
+above and behind. I think now that had I shown fear in such a place,
+or shouted, or tried to fray them away, they would have swooped upon
+me, wing and claw, like furies. I could see it in their fierce eyes as
+I looked up. But the thought of the times when I had hunted him, and
+especially the thought of that time when I had reached out of the
+bushes and touched him, was upon Old Whitehead and made him fear. So I
+kept steadily on my way, apparently giving no thought to the eagles,
+though deep inside I was anxious enough, and reached the foot of the
+tree in which the nest was made.
+
+I stood there a long time, my arm clasping the twisted old boll,
+looking out over the forest spread wide below, partly to regain
+courage, partly to reassure the eagles, which were circling very near
+with a kind of intense wonder in their eyes, but chiefly to make up my
+mind what to do next. The tree was easy to climb, but the nest--a huge
+affair, which had been added to year after year--filled the whole
+tree-top, and I could gain no foothold, from which to look over and
+see the eaglets, without tearing the nest to pieces. I did not want to
+do that, and I doubted whether the mother-eagle would stand it. A
+dozen times she seemed on the point of dropping on my head to tear it
+with her talons; but always she veered off as I looked up quietly, and
+Old Whitehead, with the mark of my bullet strong upon him, swept
+between her and me and seemed to say, "Wait, wait. I don't understand;
+but he can kill us if he will--and the little ones are in his power."
+Now he was closer to me than ever, and the fear was vanishing. But so
+also was the fierceness.
+
+From the foot of the tree the crevice in which it grew led upwards to
+the right, then doubled back to the ledge above the nest, upon which
+Cheplahgan was standing when I discovered him. The lip of this crevice
+made a dizzy path that one might follow by moving crabwise, his face
+to the cliff, with only its roughnesses to cling to with his fingers.
+I tried it at last, crept up and out twenty feet, and back ten, and
+dropped with a great breath of relief to a broad ledge covered with
+bones and fish scales, the relics of many a savage feast. Below me,
+almost within reach, was the nest, with two dark, scraggly young birds
+resting on twigs and grass, with fish, flesh and fowl in a gory,
+skinny, scaly ring about them--the most savage-looking household into
+which I ever looked unbidden.
+
+But even as I looked and wondered, and tried to make out what other
+game had been furnished the young savages I had helped to feed, a
+strange thing happened, which touched me as few things ever have among
+the wild creatures. The eagles had followed me close along the last
+edge of rock, hoping no doubt in their wild hearts that I would slip,
+and end their troubles, and give my body as food to the young. Now, as
+I sat on the ledge, peering eagerly into the nest, the great
+mother-bird left me and hovered over her eaglets, as if to shield them
+with her wings from even the sight of my eyes. But Old Whitehead still
+circled over me. Lower he came, and lower, till with a supreme effort
+of daring he folded his wings and dropped to the ledge beside me,
+within ten feet, and turned and looked into my eyes. "See," he seemed
+to say, "we are within reach again. You touched me once; I don't know
+how or why. Here I am now, to touch or to kill, as you will; only
+spare the little ones."
+
+A moment later the mother-bird dropped to the edge of the nest. And
+there we sat, we three, with the wonder upon us all, the young eagles
+at our feet, the cliff above, and, three hundred feet below, the
+spruce tops of the wilderness reaching out and away to the mountains
+beyond the big lake. I sat perfectly still, which is the only way to
+reassure a wild creature; and soon I thought Cheplahgan had lost his
+fear in his anxiety for the little ones. But the moment I rose to go
+he was in the air again, circling restlessly above my head with his
+mate, the same wild fierceness in his eyes as he looked down. A
+half-hour later I had gained the top of the cliff and started eastward
+towards the lake, coming down by a much easier way than that by which
+I went up. Later I returned several times, and from a distance watched
+the eaglets being fed. But I never climbed to the nest again.
+
+One day, when I came to the little thicket on the cliff where I used
+to lie and watch the nest through my glass, I found that one eaglet
+was gone. The other stood on the edge of the nest, looking down
+fearfully into the abyss, whither, no doubt, his bolder nest mate had
+flown, and calling disconsolately from time to time. His whole
+attitude showed plainly that he was hungry and cross and lonesome.
+Presently the mother-eagle came swiftly up from the valley, and there
+was food in her talons. She came to the edge of the nest, hovered over
+it a moment, so as to give the hungry eaglet a sight and smell of
+food, then went slowly down to the valley, taking the food with her,
+telling the little one in her own way to come and he should have it.
+He called after her loudly from the edge of the nest, and spread his
+wings a dozen times to follow. But the plunge was too awful; his heart
+failed him; and he settled back in the nest, and pulled his head down
+into his shoulders, and shut his eyes, and tried to forget that he was
+hungry. The meaning of the little comedy was plain enough. She was
+trying to teach him to fly, telling him that his wings were grown and
+the time was come to use them; but he was afraid.
+
+In a little while she came back again, this time without food, and
+hovered over the nest, trying every way to induce the little one to
+leave it. She succeeded at last, when with a desperate effort he
+sprang upward and flapped to the ledge above, where I had sat and
+watched him with Old Whitehead. Then, after surveying the world
+gravely from his new place, he flapped back to the nest, and turned a
+deaf ear to all his mother's assurances that he could fly just as
+easily to the tree-tops below, if he only would.
+
+Suddenly, as if discouraged, she rose well above him. I held my
+breath, for I knew what was coming. The little fellow stood on the
+edge of the nest, looking down at the plunge which he dared not take.
+There was a sharp cry from behind, which made him alert, tense as a
+watch-spring. The next instant the mother-eagle had swooped, striking
+the nest at his feet, sending his support of twigs and himself with
+them out into the air together.
+
+He was afloat now, afloat on the blue air in spite of himself, and
+flapped lustily for life. Over him, under him, beside him hovered the
+mother on tireless wings, calling softly that she was there. But the
+awful fear of the depths and the lance tops of the spruces was upon
+the little one; his flapping grew more wild; he fell faster and
+faster. Suddenly--more in fright, it seemed to me, than because he had
+spent his strength--he lost his balance and tipped head downward in
+the air. It was all over now, it seemed; he folded his wings to be
+dashed in pieces among the trees. Then like a flash the old
+mother-eagle shot under him; his despairing feet touched her broad
+shoulders, between her wings. He righted himself, rested an instant,
+found his head; then she dropped like a shot from under him, leaving
+him to come down on his own wings. A handful of feathers, torn out by
+his claws, hovered slowly down after them.
+
+It was all the work of an instant before I lost them among the trees
+far below. And when I found them again with my glass, the eaglet was
+in the top of a great pine, and the mother was feeding him.
+
+And then, standing there alone in the great wilderness, it flashed
+upon me for the first time just what the wise old prophet meant;
+though he wrote long ago, in a distant land, and another than Cloud
+Wings had taught her little ones, all unconscious of the kindly eyes
+that watched out of a thicket: "As the eagle stirreth up her nest,
+fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them,
+beareth them on her wings,--so the Lord."
+
+
+
+
+VII. UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW.
+
+[Illustration: Upweekis]
+
+
+"Long 'go, O long time 'go," so says Simmo the Indian, Upweekis the
+lynx came to Clote Scarpe one day with a complaint. "See," he said,
+"you are good to everybody but me. Pekquam the fisher is cunning and
+patient; he can catch what he will. Lhoks the panther is strong and
+tireless; nothing can get away from him, not even the great moose. And
+Mooween the bear sleeps all winter, when game is scarce, and in summer
+eats everything,--roots and mice and berries and dead fish and meat
+and honey and red ants. So he is always full and happy. But my eyes
+are no good; they are bright, like Cheplahgan the eagle's, yet they
+cannot see anything unless it moves; for you have made every creature
+that hides just like the place he hides in. My nose is worse; it
+cannot smell Seksagadagee the grouse, though I walk over him asleep
+in the snow. And my feet make a noise in the leaves, so that Moktaques
+the rabbit hears me, and hides, and laughs behind me when I go to
+catch him. And I am always hungry. Make me now like the shadows that
+play, in order that nothing may notice me when I go hunting."
+
+So Clote Scarpe, the great chief who was kind to all animals, gave
+Upweekis a soft gray coat that is almost invisible in the woods,
+summer or winter, and made his feet large, and padded them with soft
+fur; so that indeed he is like the shadows that play, for you can
+neither see nor hear him. But Clote Scarpe remembered Moktaques the
+rabbit also, and gave him two coats, a brown one for summer and a
+white one for winter. Consequently he is harder than ever to see when
+he is quiet; and Upweekis must still depend upon his wits to catch
+him. As Upweekis has few wits to spare, Moktaques often sees him close
+at hand, and chuckles in his form under the brown ferns, or sits up
+straight under the snow-covered hemlock tips, and watches the big lynx
+at his hunting.
+
+Sometimes, on a winter night, when you camp in the wilderness, and the
+snow is sifting down into your fire, and the woods are all still, a
+fierce screech breaks suddenly out of the darkness just behind your
+wind-break of boughs. You jump to your feet and grab your rifle; but
+Simmo, who is down on his knees before the fire frying pork, only
+turns his head to listen a moment, and says: "Upweekis catch-um rabbit
+dat time." Then he gets closer to the fire, for the screech was not
+pleasant, and goes on with his cooking.
+
+You are more curious than he, or you want the big cat's skin to take
+home with you. You steal away towards the cry, past the little
+_commoosie_, or shelter, that you made hastily at sundown when the
+trail ended. There, with your back to the fire and the _commoosie_
+between, the light does not dazzle your eyes; you can trace the
+shadows creeping in and out stealthily among the underbrush. But if
+Upweekis is there--and he probably is--you do not see him. He is a
+shadow among the shadows. Only there is this difference: shadows move
+no bushes. As you watch, a fir-tip stirs; a bit of snow drops down.
+You gaze intently at the spot. Then out of the deep shadow two living
+coals are suddenly kindled. They grow larger and larger, glowing,
+flashing, burning holes into your eyes till you brush them swiftly
+with your hand. A shiver runs over you, for to look into the eyes of
+a lynx at night, when the light catches them, is a scary experience.
+Your rifle jumps to position; the glowing coals are quenched on the
+instant. Then, when your eyes have blinked the fascination out of
+them, the shadows go creeping in and out again, and Upweekis is lost
+amongst them.
+
+Sometimes, indeed, you see him again. Moktaques, the big white hare,
+who forgets a thing the moment it is past, sees you standing there and
+is full of curiosity. He forgets that he was being hunted a moment
+ago, and comes hopping along to see what you are. You back away toward
+the fire. He scampers off in a fright, but presently comes hopping
+after you. Watch the underbrush behind him sharply. In a moment it
+stirs stealthily, as if a shadow were moving it; and there is the
+lynx, stealing along in the snow with his eyes blazing. Again
+Moktaques feels that he is hunted, and does the only safe thing; he
+crouches low in the snow, where a fir-tip bends over him, and is still
+as the earth. His color hides him perfectly.
+
+Upweekis has lost the trail again; he wavers back and forth, like a
+shadow under a swinging lamp, turning his great head from side to
+side. He cannot see nor hear nor smell his game; but he saw a bit of
+snow fly a moment ago, and knows that it came from Moktaques' big
+pads. Don't stir now; be still as the great spruce in whose shadow
+you stand; and, once in a hunter's lifetime perhaps, you will see a
+curious tragedy.
+
+The lynx settles himself in the snow, with all four feet close
+together, ready for a spring. As you watch and wonder, a screech rings
+out through the woods, so sharp and fierce that no rabbit's nerves can
+stand it close at hand and be still. Moktaques jumps straight up in
+the air. The lynx sees it, whirls, hurls himself at the spot. Another
+screech, a different one, and then you know that it's all over.
+
+And that is why Upweekis' cry is so fierce and sudden on a winter
+night. Your fire attracts the rabbits. Upweekis knows this, or is
+perhaps attracted himself and comes also, and hides among the shadows.
+But he never catches anything unless he blunders onto it. That is why
+he wanders so much in winter and passes twenty rabbits before he
+catches one. So when he knows that Moktaques is near, watching the
+light, but remaining himself invisible, Upweekis crouches for a
+spring; then he screeches fearfully. Moktaques hears it and is
+startled, as anybody else would be, hearing such a cry near him. He
+jumps in a fright and pays the penalty.
+
+If the lynx is a big one, and very hungry, as he generally is in
+winter, you may get some unpleasant impressions of him in another way
+when you venture far from your fire. His eyes blaze out at you from
+the darkness, just two big glowing spots, which are all you see, and
+which disappear at your first motion. Then as you strain your eyes,
+and watch and listen, you feel the coals upon you again from another
+place; and there they are, under a bush on your left, creeping closer
+and blazing deep red. They disappear suddenly as the lynx turns his
+head, only to reappear and fascinate you from another point. So he
+plays with you as if you were a great mouse, creeping closer all the
+time, swishing his stub tail fiercely to lash himself up to the
+courage point of springing. But his movements are so still and shadowy
+that unless he follows you as you back away to the fire, and so comes
+within the circle of light, the chances are that you will never see
+him.
+
+Indeed the chances are always that way, day or night, unless you turn
+hunter and set a trap for him in the rabbit paths which he follows
+nightly, and hang a bait over it to make him look up and forget his
+steps. In summer he goes to the burned lands for the rabbits that
+swarm in the thickets, and to rear his young in seclusion. You find
+his tracks there all about, and the marks of his killing; but though
+you watch and prowl all day and come home in the twilight, you will
+learn little. He hears you and skulks away amid the lights and
+shadows of the hillside, and so hides himself--in plain sight,
+sometimes, like a young partridge--that he manages to keep a clean
+record in the notebook where you hoped to write down all about him.
+
+In winter you cross his tracks, great round tracks that wander
+everywhere through the big woods, and you think: Now I shall find him
+surely. But though you follow for miles and learn much about him,
+finding where he passed this rabbit close at hand, without suspecting
+it, and caught that one by accident, and missed the partridge that
+burst out of the snow under his very feet,--still Upweekis himself
+remains only a shadow of the woods. Once, after a glorious long tramp
+on his trail, I found the spot where he had been sleeping a moment
+before. But beside that experience I must put fifty other trails that
+I have followed, of which I never saw the end nor the beginning. And
+whenever I have found out anything about Upweekis it has generally
+come unexpectedly, as most good things do.
+
+Once the chance came as I was watching a muskrat at his supper. It was
+twilight in the woods. I had drifted in close to shore in my canoe to
+see what Musquash was doing on top of a rock. All muskrats have
+favorite eating places--a rock, a stranded log, a tree boll that leans
+out over the water, and always a pretty spot--whither they bring food
+from a distance, evidently for the purpose of eating it where they
+feel most at home. This one had gathered a half dozen big fresh-water
+clams onto his dining table, and sat down in the midst to enjoy the
+feast. He would take a clam in his fore paws, whack it a few times on
+the rock till the shell cracked, then open it with his teeth and
+devour the morsel inside. He ate leisurely, tasting each clam
+critically before swallowing, and sitting up often to wash his
+whiskers or to look out over the lake. A hermit thrush sang
+marvelously sweet above him; the twilight colors glowed deep and
+deeper in the water below, where his shadow was clearly eating clams
+also, in the midst of heaven's splendor.--Altogether a pretty scene,
+and a moment of peace that I still love to remember. I quite forgot
+that Musquash is a villain. But the tragedy was near, as it always is
+in the wilderness. Suddenly a movement caught my eye on the bank
+above. Something was waving nervously under the bushes. Before I could
+make out what it was, there was a fearful rush, a gleam of wild yellow
+eyes, a squeak from the muskrat. Then Upweekis, looking gaunt and dark
+and strange in his summer coat, was crouched on the rock with Musquash
+between his great paws, growling fiercely as he cracked the bones. He
+bit his game all over, to make sure that it was quite dead, then took
+it by the back of the neck, glided into the bushes with his stub tail
+twitching, and became a shadow again.
+
+Another time I was perched up in a lodged tree, some twenty feet from
+the ground, watching a big bait of fish which I had put in an open
+spot for anything that might choose to come and get it. I was hoping
+for a bear, and so climbed above the ground that he might not get my
+scent should he come from leeward. It was early autumn, and my
+intentions were wholly peaceable. I had no weapon of any kind.
+
+Late in the afternoon something took to chasing a red squirrel near
+me. I heard them scurrying through the trees, but could see nothing.
+The chase passed out of hearing, and I had almost forgotten it, for
+something was moving in the underbrush near my bait, when back it came
+with a rush. The squirrel, half dead with fright, leaped from a
+spruce-tip to the ground, jumped onto the tree in which I sat, and
+raced up the incline, almost to my feet, where he sprang to a branch
+and sat chattering hysterically between two fears. After him came a
+pine marten, following swiftly, catching the scent of his game, not
+from the bark or the ground, but apparently from the air. Scarcely had
+he jumped upon my tree when there was a screech and a rush in the
+underbrush just below him, and out of the bushes came a young lynx to
+join in the chase. He missed the marten on the ground, but sprang to
+my tree like a flash. I remember still that the only sound I was
+conscious of at the time was the ripping of his nails in the dead
+bark. He had been seeking my bait undoubtedly--for it was a good lynx
+country, and Upweekis loves fish like a cat--when the chase passed
+under his nose and he joined it on the instant.
+
+Halfway up the incline the marten smelled me, or was terrified by the
+noise behind him and leaped aside. A branch upon which I was leaning
+swayed or snapped, and the lucivee stopped as if struck, crouching
+lower and lower against the tree, his big yellow expressionless eyes
+glaring straight into mine. A moment only he stood the steady look;
+then his eyes wavered; he turned his head, leaped for the underbrush,
+and was gone.
+
+Another moment and Meeko the squirrel had forgotten his fright and
+peril and everything else save his curiosity to find out who I was and
+all about me. He had to pass quite close to me to get to another tree,
+but anything was better than going back where the marten might be
+waiting; so he was presently over my head, snickering and barking to
+make me move, and scolding me soundly for disturbing the peace of the
+woods. In summer Upweekis is a solitary creature, rearing his young
+away back on the wildest burned lands, where game is plenty and where
+it is almost impossible to find him except by accident. In winter also
+he roams alone for the most part; but occasionally, when rabbits are
+scarce, as they are periodically in the northern woods, he gathers in
+small bands for the purpose of pulling down big game that he would
+never attack singly. Generally Upweekis is skulking and cowardly with
+man; but when driven by hunger (as I found out once) or when hunting
+in bands, he is a savage beast and must be followed cautiously.
+
+I had heard much of the fierceness of these hunting bands from
+settlers and hunters; and once a friend of mine, an old backwoodsman,
+had a narrow escape from them. He had a dog, Grip, a big brindled cur,
+of whose prowess in killing "varmints" he was always bragging, calling
+him the best "lucififer" dog in all Canada. Lucififer, by the way, is
+a local name for the lynx on the upper St. John, where Grip and his
+master lived.
+
+One day in winter the master missed a young heifer and went on his
+trail, with Grip and his axe for companions. Presently he came to lynx
+tracks, then to signs of a struggle, then plump upon six or seven of
+the big cats snarling savagely over the body of the heifer. Grip, the
+lucififer dog, rushed in blindly, and in two minutes was torn to
+ribbons. Then the lynxes came creeping and snarling towards the man,
+who backed away, shouting and swinging his axe. He killed one by a
+lucky blow, as it sprang for his chest. The others drove him to his
+own door; but he would never have reached it, so he told me, but for a
+long strip of open land that he had cleared back into the woods. He
+would face and charge the beasts, which seemed more afraid of his
+voice than of the axe, then run desperately to keep them from circling
+and getting between him and safety. When he reached the open strip
+they followed a little way along the edges of the underbrush, but
+returned one at a time when they were sure he had no further mind to
+disturb their feast or their fighting.
+
+It is curious that when Upweekis and his hunting pack pull down game
+in this way the first thing they do is to fight over it. There may be
+meat enough and to spare, but under their fearful hunger is the old
+beastly instinct for each one to grab all for himself; so they fall
+promptly to teeth and claws before the game is dead. The fightings at
+such times are savage affairs, both to the eye and ear. One forgets
+that Upweekis is a shadow, and thinks that he must be a fiend.
+
+One day in winter, when after caribou, I came upon a very large lynx
+track, the largest I have ever seen. It was two days old; but it led
+in my direction, toward the caribou barrens, and I followed it to see
+what I should see.
+
+Presently it joined four other lynx trails, and a mile farther on all
+five trails went forward in great flying leaps, each lynx leaving a
+hole in the snow as big as a bucket at every jump. A hundred yards of
+this kind of traveling and the trails joined another trail,--that of a
+wounded caribou from the barrens. His tracks showed that he had been
+traveling with difficulty on three legs. Here was a place where he had
+stood to listen; and there was another place where even untrained eyes
+might see that he had plunged forward with a start of fear. It was a
+silent story, but full of eager interest in every detail.
+
+The lucivee tracks now showed different tactics. They crossed and
+crisscrossed the trail, appearing now in front, now behind, now on
+either side the wounded bull, evidently closing in upon him warily.
+Here and there was a depression in the snow where one had crouched,
+growling, as the game passed. Then the struggle began. First, there
+was a trampled place in the snow where the bull had taken a stand and
+the big cats went creeping about him, waiting for a chance to
+spring all together. He broke away from that, but the three-legged
+gallop speedily exhausted him. Only when he trots is a caribou
+tireless. The lynxes followed the deadly cat-play began again. First
+one, then another leaped, only to be shaken off; then two, then all
+five were upon the poor brute, which still struggled forward. The
+record was written red all over the snow.
+
+[Illustration: The lynxes and caribou]
+
+As I followed it cautiously, a snarl sounded just ahead. I kicked off
+my snowshoes and circled noiselessly to the left, so as to look out
+over a little opening. There lay the stripped carcass of the caribou
+with two lynxes still upon it, growling fearfully at each other as
+they pulled at the bones. Another lynx crouched in the snow, under a
+bush, watching the scene. Two others circled about each other
+snarling, looking for an opening, but too well fed to care for a fight
+just then. Two or three foxes, a pine marten, and a fisher moved
+ceaselessly in and out, sniffing hungrily, and waiting for a chance to
+seize every scrap of bone or skin that was left unguarded for an
+instant. Above them a dozen moose birds kept the same watch
+vigilantly. As I stole nearer, hoping to get behind an old log where I
+could lie and watch the spectacle, some creature scurried out of the
+underbrush at one side. I was watching the movement, when a loud
+_kee-yaaah!_ startled me; I whirled towards the opening. From behind
+the old log a fierce round head with tasseled ears rose up, and the
+big lynx, whose trail I had first followed, sprang into sight snarling
+and spitting viciously.
+
+The feast stopped at the first alarm. The marten disappeared
+instantly. The foxes and the fisher and one lynx slunk away. Another,
+which I had not seen, stalked up to the carcass and put his fore paws
+upon it, and turned his savage head in my direction. Evidently other
+lynxes had come in to the kill beside the five I had followed. Then
+all the big cats crouched in the snow and stared at me steadily out of
+their wild yellow eyes.
+
+It was only for a moment. The big lynx on my side of the log was in a
+fighting temper; he snarled continuously. Another sprang over the log
+and crouched beside him, facing me. Then began a curious scene, of
+which I could not wait to see the end. The two lynxes hitched nearer
+and nearer to where I stood motionless, watching. They would creep
+forward a step or two, then crouch in the snow, like a cat warming her
+feet, and stare at me unblinkingly for a few moments. Then another
+hitch or two, which brought them nearer, and another stare. I could
+not look at one steadily, to make him waver; for the moment my eyes
+were upon him the others hitched closer; and already two more lynxes
+were coming over the log. I had to draw the curtain hastily with a
+bullet between the yellow eyes of the biggest lynx, and a second
+straight into the chest of his fellow-starer, just as he wriggled down
+into the snow for a spring. The others had leaped away snarling as the
+first heavy report rolled through the woods.
+
+Another time, in the same region, a solitary lynx made me
+uncomfortable for half an afternoon. It was Sunday, and I had gone for
+a snowshoe tramp, leaving my rifle behind me. On the way back to camp
+I stopped for a caribou head and skin, which I had _cached_ on the
+edge of a barren the morning before. The weather had changed; a bitter
+cold wind blew after me as I turned toward camp. I carried the head
+with its branching antlers on my shoulder; the skin hung down, to keep
+my back warm, its edges trailing in the snow.
+
+Gradually I became convinced that something was following me; but I
+turned several times without seeing anything. "It is only a fisher," I
+thought, and kept on steadily, instead of going back to examine my
+trail; for I was hoping for a glimpse of the cunning creature whose
+trail you find so often running side by side with your own, and who
+follows you if you have any trace of game about you, hour after hour
+through the wilderness, without ever showing himself in the light.
+Then I whirled suddenly, obeying an impulse; and there was Upweekis, a
+big, savage-looking fellow, just gliding up on my trail in plain
+sight, following the broad snowshoe track and the scent of the fresh
+caribou skin without difficulty, poor trailer though he be.
+
+He stopped and sat down on his feet, as a lucivee generally does when
+you surprise him, and stared at me steadily. When I went on again I
+knew that he was after me, though he had disappeared from the trail.
+
+Then began a double-quick of four miles, the object being to reach
+camp before night should fall and give the lucivee the advantage. It
+was already late enough to make one a bit uneasy. He knew that I was
+hurrying he grew bolder, showing himself openly on the trail behind
+me. I turned into an old swamping road, which gave me a bit of open
+before and behind. Then I saw him occasionally on either side, or
+crouching half hid until I passed. Clearly he was waiting for night;
+but to this day I am not sure whether it was the man or the caribou
+skin upon which he had set his heart. The scent of flesh and blood was
+in his nose, and he was too hungry to control himself much longer.
+
+I cut a good club with my big jack-knife, and, watching my chance,
+threw off the caribou head and jumped for him as he crouched in the
+snow. He leaped aside untouched, but crouched again instantly, showing
+all his teeth, snarling horribly. Three times I swung at him warily.
+Each time he jumped aside and watched for his opening; but I kept the
+club in play before his eyes, and it was not yet dark enough. Then I
+yelled in his face, to teach him fear, and went on again.
+
+Near camp I shouted for Simmo to bring my rifle; but he was slow in
+understanding, and his answering shout alarmed the savage creature
+near me. His movements became instantly more wary, more hidden. He
+left the open trail; and once, when I saw him well behind me, his head
+was raised high, listening. I threw down the caribou head to keep him
+busy, and ran for camp. In a few minutes I was stealing back again
+with my rifle; but Upweekis had felt the change in the situation and
+was again among the shadows, where he belongs. I lost his trail in the
+darkening woods.
+
+There was another lynx which showed me, one day, a different side to
+Upweekis' nature. It was in summer, when every creature in the
+wilderness seems an altogether different creature from the one you
+knew last winter, with new habits, new duties, new pleasures, and even
+a new coat to hide him better from his enemies. Opposite my island
+camp, where I halted a little while, in a summer's roving, was a
+burned ridge; that is, it had been burned over years before; now it
+was a perfect tangle, with many an open sunny spot, however, where
+berries grew by handfuls. Rabbits swarmed there, and grouse were
+plenty. As it was forty miles back from the settlements, it seemed a
+perfect place for Upweekis to make a den in. And so it was. I have no
+doubt there were a dozen litters of kittens on that two miles of
+ridge; but the cover was so dense that nothing smaller than a deer
+could be seen moving.
+
+For two weeks I hunted the ridge whenever I was not fishing, stealing
+in and out among the thickets, depending more upon ears than eyes, but
+seeing nothing of Upweekis, save here and there a trampled fern, or a
+blood-splashed leaf, with a bit of rabbit fur, or a great round cat
+track, to tell the story. Once I came upon a bear and two cubs among
+the berries; and once, when the wind was blowing down the hill, I
+walked almost up to a bull caribou without seeing him. He was watching
+my approach curiously, only his eyes, ears, and horns showing above
+the tangle where he stood. Down in the coverts it was always intensely
+still, with a stillness that I took good care not to break. So when
+the great brute whirled with a snort and a tremendous crash of
+bushes, almost under my nose, it raised my hair for a moment, not
+knowing what the creature was, nor which way he was heading. But
+though every day brought its experience, and its knowledge, and its
+new wonder at the ways of wild things, I found no trace of the den,
+nor of the kittens I had hoped to watch. All animals are silent near
+their little ones, so there was never a cry by night or day to guide
+me.
+
+Late one afternoon, when I had climbed to the top of the ridge and was
+on my way back to camp, I ran into an odor, the strong, disagreeable
+odor that always hovers about the den of a carnivorous animal. I
+followed it through a thicket, and came to an open stony place, with a
+sharp drop of five or six feet to dense cover below. The odor came
+from this cover, so I jumped down; when--_yeow, karrrr, pft-pft!_
+Almost under my feet a gray thing leaped away snarling, followed by
+another. I had the merest glimpse of them; but from the way they
+bristled and spit and arched their backs, I knew that I had stumbled
+upon a pair of the lynx kittens, for which I had searched so long in
+vain.
+
+They had, probably, been lying out on the warm stones, until, hearing
+strange footsteps, they had glided away to cover. When I crashed down
+near them they had been scared into showing their temper; else I had
+never seen them in the underbrush. Fortunately for me, the fierce old
+mother was away. Had she been there, I should undoubtedly have had
+more serious business on hand than watching her kittens.
+
+They had not seen more of me than my shoes and stockings; so when I
+stole after them, to see what they were like, they were waiting under
+a bush to see what I was like. They jumped away again, spitting,
+without seeing me, alarmed by the rustle which I could not avoid
+making in the cover. So I followed them, just a quiver of leaves here,
+a snarl there, and then a rush away, until they doubled back towards
+the rocky place, where, parting the underbrush cautiously, I saw a
+dark hole among the rocks of a little opening. The roots of an
+upturned tree arched over the hole, making a broad doorway. In this
+doorway stood two half-grown lucivees, fuzzy and gray and
+savage-looking, their backs still up, their wild eyes turned in my
+direction apprehensively. Seeing me they drew farther back into the
+den, and I saw nothing more of them save now and then their round
+heads, or the fire in their yellow eyes.
+
+It was too late for further observation that day. The fierce old
+mother lynx would presently be back; they would let her know of the
+intruder in some way; and they would all keep close in the den. I
+found a place, some dozen yards above, where it would be possible to
+watch them, marked the spot by a blasted stub, to which I made a
+compass of broken twigs; and then went back to camp.
+
+Next morning I omitted the early fishing, and was back at the place
+before the sun looked over the ridge. Their den was all quiet, in deep
+shadow. Mother Lynx was still away on the early hunting. I intended to
+kill her when she came back. My rifle lay ready across my knees. Then
+I would watch the kittens a little while, and kill them also. I wanted
+their skins, all soft and fine with their first fur. And they were too
+big and fierce to think of taking them alive. My vacation was over.
+Simmo was already packing up, to break camp that morning. So there
+would be no time to carry out my long-cherished plan of watching young
+lynxes at play, as I had before watched young foxes and bears and owls
+and fish-hawks, and indeed almost everything, except Upweekis, in the
+wilderness.
+
+Presently one of the lucivees came out, yawned, stretched, raised
+himself against a root. In the morning stillness I could hear the cut
+and rip of his claws on the wood. We call the action sharpening the
+claws; but it is only the occasional exercise of the fine flexor
+muscles that a cat uses so seldom, yet must use powerfully when the
+time comes. The second lucivee came out of the shadow a moment later
+and leaped upon the fallen tree where he could better watch the
+hillside below. For half an hour or more, while I waited expectantly,
+both animals moved restlessly about the den, or climbed over the roots
+and trunk of the fallen tree. They were plainly cross; they made no
+attempt at play, but kept well away from each other with a wholesome
+respect for teeth and claws and temper. Breakfast hour was long past,
+evidently, and they were hungry.
+
+Suddenly one, who was at that moment watching from the tree trunk,
+leaped down; the second joined him, and both paced back and forth
+excitedly. They had heard the sounds of a coming that were too fine
+for my ears. A stir in the underbrush, and Mother Lynx, a great savage
+creature, stalked out proudly. She carried a dead hare gripped across
+the middle of the back. The long ears on one side, the long legs on
+the other, hung limply, showing a fresh kill. She walked to the
+doorway of her den, crossed it back and forth two or three times,
+still carrying the hare as if the lust of blood were raging within her
+and she could not drop her prey even to her own little ones, which
+followed her hungrily, one on either side. Once, as she turned toward
+me, one of the kittens seized a leg of the hare and jerked it
+savagely. The mother whirled on him, growling deep down in her throat;
+the youngster backed away, scared but snarling. At last she flung the
+game down. The kittens fell upon it like furies, growling at each
+other, as I had seen the stranger lynxes growling once before over the
+caribou. In a moment they had torn the carcass apart and were
+crouched, each one over his piece, gnarling like a cat over a rat, and
+stuffing themselves greedily in utter forgetfulness of the mother
+lynx, which lay under a bush some distance away and watched them.
+
+In a half hour the savage meal was over. The little ones sat up,
+licked their chops, and began to tongue their broad paws. The mother
+had been blinking sleepily; now she rose and came to her young. A
+change had come over the family. The kittens ran to meet the dam as if
+they had not seen her before, rubbing softly against her legs, or
+sitting up to rub their whiskers against hers--a tardy thanks for the
+breakfast she had provided. The fierce old mother too seemed
+altogether different. She arched her back against the roots, purring
+loudly, while the little ones arched and purred against her sides.
+Then she bent her savage head and licked them fondly with her tongue,
+while they rubbed as close to her as they could get, passing between
+her legs as under a bridge, and trying to lick her face in return;
+till all their tongues were going at once and the family lay down
+together.
+
+It was time to kill them now. The rifle lay ready. But a change had
+come over the watcher too. Hitherto he had seen Upweekis as a
+ferocious brute, whom it was good to kill. This was altogether
+different. Upweekis could be gentle also, it seemed, and give herself
+for her little ones. And a bit of tenderness, like that which lay so
+unconscious under my eyes, gets hold of a man, and spikes his guns
+better than moralizing. So the watcher stole away, making as little
+noise as he could, following his compass of twigs to where the canoes
+lay ready and Simmo was waiting.
+
+Sometime, I hope, Simmo and I will camp there again, in winter. And
+then I shall listen with a new interest for a cry in the night which
+tells me that Moktaques the rabbit is hiding close at hand in the
+snow, where a young lynx of my acquaintance cannot find him.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE.
+
+[Illustration: Hukweem]
+
+
+Hukweem the loon must go through the world crying for what he never
+gets, and searching for one whom he never finds; for he is the
+hunting-dog of Clote Scarpe. So said Simmo to me one night in
+explaining why the loon's cry is so wild and sad.
+
+Clote Scarpe, by the way, is the legendary hero, the Hiawatha of the
+northern Indians. Long ago he lived on the Wollastook, and ruled the
+animals, which all lived peaceably together, understanding each
+other's language, and "nobody ever ate anybody," as Simmo says. But
+when Clote Scarpe went away they quarreled, and Lhoks the panther and
+Nemox the fisher took to killing the other animals. Malsun the wolf
+soon followed, and ate all he killed; and Meeko the squirrel, who
+always makes all the mischief he can, set even the peaceable animals
+by the ears, so that they feared and distrusted each other. Then they
+scattered through the big woods, living each one for himself; and now
+the strong ones kill the weak, and nobody understands anybody any
+more.
+
+There were no dogs in those days. Hukweem was Clote Scarpe's hunting
+companion when he hunted the great evil beasts that disturbed the
+wilderness; and Hukweem alone, of all the birds and animals, remained
+true to his master. For hunting makes strong friendship, says Simmo;
+and that is true. Therefore does Hukweem go through the world, looking
+for his master and calling him to come back. Over the tree-tops, when
+he flies low looking for new waters; high in air, out of sight, on his
+southern migrations; and on every lake where he is only a voice, the
+sad night voice of the vast solitary unknown wilderness--everywhere
+you hear him seeking. Even on the seacoast in winter, where he knows
+Clote Scarpe cannot be--for Clote Scarpe hates the sea--Hukweem
+forgets himself, and cries occasionally out of pure loneliness.
+
+When I asked what Hukweem says when he cries--for all cries of the
+wilderness have their interpretation--Simmo answered: "Wy, he say two
+ting. First he say, _Where are you? O where are you_? Dass what you
+call-um his laugh, like he crazy. Denn, wen nobody answer, he say, _O
+I so sorry, so sorry_! _Ooooo-eee_! like woman lost in woods. An'
+dass his tother cry."
+
+[Illustration: Hukweem]
+
+This comes nearer to explaining the wild unearthliness of Hukweem's
+call than anything else I know. It makes things much simpler to
+understand, when you are camped deep in the wilderness, and the night
+falls, and out of the misty darkness under the farther shore comes a
+wild shivering call that makes one's nerves tingle till he finds out
+about it--_Where are you? O where are you?_ That is just like Hukweem.
+
+Sometimes, however, he varies the cry, and asks very plainly: "Who are
+you? O who are you?" There was a loon on the Big Squattuk lake, where
+I camped one summer, which was full of inquisitiveness as a blue jay.
+He lived alone at one end of the lake, while his mate, with her brood
+of two, lived at the other end, nine miles away. Every morning and
+evening he came close to my camp--very much nearer than is usual, for
+loons are wild and shy in the wilderness--to cry out his challenge.
+Once, late at night, I flashed a lantern at the end of the old log
+that served as a landing for the canoes, where I had heard strange
+ripples; and there was Hukweem, examining everything with the greatest
+curiosity.
+
+Every unusual thing in our doings made him inquisitive to know all
+about it. Once, when I started down the lake with a fair wind, and a
+small spruce set up in the bow of my canoe for a sail, he followed me
+four or five miles, calling all the way. And when I came back to camp
+at twilight with a big bear in the canoe, his shaggy head showing over
+the bow, and his legs up over the middle thwart, like a little old
+black man with his wrinkled feet on the table, Hukweem's curiosity
+could stand it no longer. He swam up within twenty yards, and circled
+the canoe half a dozen times, sitting up straight on his tail by a
+vigorous use of his wings, stretching his neck like an inquisitive
+duck, so as to look into the canoe and see what queer thing I had
+brought with me.
+
+He had another curious habit which afforded him unending amusement.
+There was a deep bay on the west shore of the lake, with hills rising
+abruptly on three sides. The echo here was remarkable; a single shout
+brought a dozen distinct answers, and then a confusion of tongues as
+the echoes and re-echoes from many hills met and mingled. I discovered
+the place in an interesting way.
+
+One evening at twilight, as I was returning to camp from exploring the
+upper lake, I heard a wild crying of loons on the west side. There
+seemed to be five or six of the great divers, all laughing and
+shrieking like so many lunatics. Pushing over to investigate, I
+noticed for the first time the entrance to a great bay, and paddled up
+cautiously behind a point, so as to surprise the loons at their game.
+For they play games, just as crows do. But when I looked in, there was
+only one bird, Hukweem the Inquisitive. I knew him instantly by his
+great size and beautiful markings. He would give a single sharp call,
+and listen intently, with head up, swinging from side to side as the
+separate echoes came ringing back from the hills. Then he would try
+his cackling laugh, _Ooo-�h-ha-ha-ha-hoo, ooo-�h-ha-ha-ha-hoo_, and as
+the echoes began to ring about his head he would get excited, sitting
+up on his tail, flapping his wings, cackling and shrieking with glee
+at his own performance. Every wild syllable was flung back like a shot
+from the surrounding hills, till the air seemed full of loons, all
+mingling their crazy cachinnations with the din of the chief
+performer. The uproar made one shiver. Then Hukweem would cease
+suddenly, listening intently to the warring echoes. Before the
+confusion was half ended he would get excited again, and swim about in
+small circles, spreading wings and tail, showing his fine feathers as
+if every echo were an admiring loon, pleased as a peacock with himself
+at having made such a noise in a quiet world.
+
+There was another loon, a mother bird, on a different lake, whose two
+eggs had been carried off by a thieving muskrat; but she did not know
+who did it, for Musquash knows how to roll the eggs into water and
+carry them off, before eating, where the mother bird will not find the
+shells. She came swimming down to meet us the moment our canoe entered
+the lake; and what she seemed to cry was, "Where are they? O where are
+they?" She followed us across the lake, accusing us of robbery, and
+asking the same question over and over.
+
+But whatever the meaning of Hukweem's crying, it seems to constitute a
+large part of his existence. Indeed, it is as a cry that he is chiefly
+known--the wild, unearthly cry of the wilderness night. His education
+for this begins very early. Once I was exploring the grassy shores of
+a wild lake when a mother loon appeared suddenly, out in the middle,
+with a great splashing and crying. I paddled out to see what was the
+matter. She withdrew with a great effort, apparently, as I approached,
+still crying loudly and beating the water with her wings. "Oho," I
+said, "you have a nest in there somewhere, and now you are trying to
+get me away from it." This was the only time I have ever known a loon
+to try that old mother bird's trick. Generally they slip off the nest
+while the canoe is yet half a mile away, and swim under water a long
+distance, and watch you silently from the other side of the lake.
+
+I went back and hunted awhile for the nest among the bogs of a little
+bay; then left the search to investigate a strange call that sounded
+continuously farther up the shore. It came from some hidden spot in
+the tall grass, an eager little whistling cry, reminding me somehow of
+a nest of young fish-hawks.
+
+As I waded cautiously among the bogs, trying to locate the sound, I
+came suddenly upon the loon's nest--just the bare top of a bog, where
+the mother bird had pulled up the grass and hollowed the earth enough
+to keep the eggs from rolling out. They were there on the bare ground,
+two very large olive eggs with dark blotches. I left them undisturbed
+and went on to investigate the crying, which had stopped a moment as I
+approached the nest.
+
+Presently it began again behind me, faint at first, then louder and
+more eager, till I traced it back to Hukweem's household. But there
+was nothing here to account for it, only two innocent-looking eggs on
+top of a bog. I bent over to examine them more closely. There, on the
+sides, were two holes, and out of the holes projected the points of
+two tiny bills. Inside were two little loons, crying at the top of
+their lungs, "Let me out! O let me out! It's hot in here. Let me
+out--_Oooo-eee! pip-pip-pip_!"
+
+But I left the work of release to the mother bird, thinking she knew
+more about it. Next day I went back to the place, and, after much
+watching, saw two little loons stealing in and out among the bogs,
+exulting in their freedom, but silent as two shadows. The mother bird
+was off on the lake, fishing for their dinner.
+
+Hukweem's fishing is always an interesting thing to watch.
+Unfortunately he is so shy that one seldom gets a good opportunity.
+Once I found his favorite fishing ground, and came every day to watch
+him from a thicket on the shore. It was of little use to go in a
+canoe. At my approach he would sink deeper and deeper in the water, as
+if taking in ballast. How he does this is a mystery; for his body is
+much lighter than its bulk of water. Dead or alive, it floats like a
+cork; yet without any perceptible motion, by an effort of will
+apparently, he sinks it out of sight. You are approaching in your
+canoe, and he moves off slowly, swinging his head from side to side so
+as to look at you first with one eye, then with the other. Your canoe
+is swift; he sees that you are gaining, that you are already too near.
+He swings on the water, and sits watching you steadily. Suddenly he
+begins to sink, deeper and deeper, till his back is just awash. Go a
+little nearer, and now his body disappears; only his neck and head
+remain above water. Raise your hand, or make any quick motion, and he
+is gone altogether. He dives like a flash, swims deep and far, and
+when he comes to the surface will be well out of danger.
+
+If you notice the direction of his bill as it enters the water, you
+can tell fairly well about where he will come up again. It was
+confusing at first, in chasing him, to find that he rarely came up
+where he was expected. I would paddle hard in the direction he was
+going, only to find him far to the right or left, or behind me, when
+at last he showed himself. That was because I followed his body, not
+his bill. Moving in one direction, he will turn his head and dive.
+That is to mislead you, if you are following him. Follow his bill, as
+he does himself, and you will be near him when he rises; for he rarely
+turns under water.
+
+With two good men to paddle, it is not difficult to tire him out.
+Though he swims with extraordinary rapidity under water--fast enough
+to follow and catch a trout--a long deep dive tires him, and he must
+rest before another. If you are chasing him, shout and wave your hat
+the moment he appears, and paddle hard the way his bill points as he
+dives again. The next time he comes up you are nearer to him. Send him
+down again quick, and after him. The next time he is frightened to see
+the canoe so close, and dives deep, which tires him the more. So his
+disappearances become shorter and more confused; you follow him more
+surely because you can see him plainly now as he goes down. Suddenly
+he bursts out of water beside you, scattering the spray into your
+canoe. Once he came up under my paddle, and I plucked a feather from
+his back before he got away.
+
+This last appearance always scares him out of his wits, and you get
+what you have been working hard for--a sight of Hukweem getting under
+way. Away he goes in a smother of spray, beating the water with his
+wings, kicking hard to lift himself up; and so for a hundred yards,
+leaving a wake like a stern-wheel steamer, till he gathers headway
+enough to rise from the water.
+
+After that first start there is no sign of awkwardness. His short
+wings rise and fall with a rapidity that tries the eye to follow, like
+the rush of a coot down wind to decoys. You can hear the swift, strong
+beat of them, far over your head, when he is not calling. His flight
+is very rapid, very even, and often at enormous altitudes. But when he
+wants to come down he always gets frightened, thinking of his short
+wings, and how high he is, and how fast he is going. On the ocean, in
+winter, where he has all the room he wants, he sometimes comes down in
+a great incline, miles long, and plunges through and over a dozen
+waves, like a dolphin, before he can stop. But where the lake is
+small, and he cannot come down that way, he has a dizzy time of it.
+
+Once, on a little lake in September, I used to watch for hours to get
+a sight of the process. Twelve or fifteen loons were gathered there,
+holding high carnival. They called down every migrating loon that
+passed that way; their numbers increased daily. Twilight was the
+favorite time for arriving. In the stillness I would hear Hukweem far
+away, so high that he was only a voice. Presently I would see him
+whirling over the lake in a great circle.--"Come down, O come down,"
+cry all the loons. "I'm afraid, _ooo-ho-ho-ho-ho-hoooo-eee_, I'm
+afraid," says Hukweem, who is perhaps a little loon, all the way from
+Labrador on his first migration, and has never come down from a height
+before. "Come on, O come _oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-hon_. It won't hurt you; we
+did it; come on," cry all the loons.
+
+Then Hukweem would slide lower with each circle, whirling round and
+round the lake in a great spiral, yelling all the time, and all the
+loons answering. When low enough, he would set his wings and plunge
+like a catapult at the very midst of the assembly, which scattered
+wildly, yelling like schoolboys--"Look out! he'll break his neck;
+he'll hit you; he'll break your back if he hits you."--So they
+splashed away in a desperate fright, each one looking back over his
+shoulder to see Hukweem come down, which he would do at a terrific
+pace, striking the water with a mighty splash, and shooting half
+across the lake in a smother of white, before he could get his legs
+under him and turn around. Then all the loons would gather round him,
+cackling, shrieking, laughing, with such a din as the little loon
+never heard in his life before; and he would go off in the midst of
+them, telling them, no doubt, what a mighty thing it was to come down
+from so high and not break his neck.
+
+A little later in the fall I saw those same loons do an astonishing
+thing. For several evenings they had been keeping up an unusual racket
+in a quiet bay, out of sight of my camp. I asked Simmo what he thought
+they were doing.--"O, I don' know, playin' game, I guess, jus' like
+one boy. Hukweem do dat sometime, wen he not hungry," said Simmo,
+going on with his bean-cooking. That excited my curiosity; but when I
+reached the bay it was too dark to see what they were playing.
+
+One evening, when I was fishing at the inlet, the racket was different
+from any I had heard before. There would be an interval of perfect
+silence, broken suddenly by wild yelling; then the ordinary loon talk
+for a few minutes, and another silence, broken by a shriller outcry.
+That meant that something unusual was going on, so I left the trout,
+to find out about it.
+
+When I pushed my canoe through the fringe of water-grass on the point
+nearest the loons, they were scattered in a long line, twelve or
+fifteen of them, extending from the head of the bay to a point nearly
+opposite me. At the other end of the line two loons were swimming
+about, doing something which I could not make out. Suddenly the loon
+talk ceased. There may have been a signal given, which I did not hear.
+Anyway, the two loons faced about at the same moment and came tearing
+down the line, using wings and feet to help in the race. The upper
+loons swung in behind them as they passed, so as to watch the finish
+better; but not a sound was heard till they passed my end of the line
+in a close, hard race, one scarcely a yard ahead of the other, when
+such a yelling began as I never heard before. All the loons gathered
+about the two swimmers; there was much cackling and crying, which grew
+gradually quieter; then they began to string out in another long line,
+and two more racers took their places at one end of it. By that time
+it was almost dark, and I broke up the race trying to get nearer in my
+canoe so as to watch things better. Twice since then I have heard
+from summer campers of their having seen loons racing across a lake. I
+have no doubt it is a frequent pastime with the birds when the summer
+cares for the young are ended, and autumn days are mellow, and fish
+are plenty, and there are long hours just for fun together, before
+Hukweem moves southward for the hard solitary winter life on the
+seacoast.
+
+Of all the loons that cried out to me in the night, or shared the
+summer lakes with me, only one ever gave me the opportunity of
+watching at close quarters. It was on a very wild lake, so wild that
+no one had ever visited it before in summer, and a mother loon felt
+safe in leaving the open shore, where she generally nests, and placing
+her eggs on a bog at the head of a narrow bay. I found them there a
+day or two after my arrival.
+
+I used to go at all hours of the day, hoping the mother would get used
+to me and my canoe, so that I could watch her later, teaching her
+little ones; but her wildness was unconquerable. Whenever I came in
+sight of the nest-bog, with only the loon's neck and head visible,
+standing up very straight and still in the grass, I would see her slip
+from the nest, steal away through the green cover to a deep place, and
+glide under water without leaving a ripple. Then, looking sharp over
+the side into the clear water, I would get a glimpse of her, just a
+gray streak with a string of silver bubbles, passing deep and swift
+under my canoe. So she went through the opening, and appeared far out
+in the lake, where she would swim back and forth, as if fishing, until
+I went away. As I never disturbed her nest, and always paddled away
+soon, she thought undoubtedly that she had fooled me, and that I knew
+nothing about her or her nest.
+
+Then I tried another plan. I lay down in my canoe, and had Simmo
+paddle me up to the nest. While the loon was out on the lake, hidden
+by the grassy shore, I went and sat on a bog, with a friendly alder
+bending over me, within twenty feet of the nest, which was in plain
+sight. Then Simmo paddled away, and Hukweem came back without the
+slightest suspicion. As I had supposed, from the shape of the nest,
+she did not sit on her two eggs; she sat on the bog instead, and
+gathered them close to her side with her wing. That was all the
+brooding they had, or needed; for within a week there were two bright
+little loons to watch instead of the eggs.
+
+After the first success I used to go alone and, while the mother bird
+was out on the lake, would pull my canoe up in the grass, a hundred
+yards or so below the nest. From here I entered the alders and made
+my way to the bog, where I could watch Hukweem at my leisure. After a
+long wait she would steal into the bay very shyly, and after much fear
+and circumspection glide up to the canoe. It took a great deal of
+looking and listening to convince her that it was harmless, and that I
+was not hiding near in the grass. Once convinced, however, she would
+come direct to the nest; and I had the satisfaction at last of
+watching a loon at close quarters.
+
+She would sit there for hours--never sleeping apparently, for her eye
+was always bright--preening herself, turning her head slowly, so as to
+watch on all sides, snapping now and then at an obtrusive fly, all in
+utter unconsciousness that I was just behind her, watching every
+movement. Then, when I had enough, I would steal away along a caribou
+path, and push off quietly in my canoe without looking back. She saw
+me, of course, when I entered the canoe, but not once did she leave
+the nest. When I reached the open lake, a little searching with my
+glass always showed me her head there in the grass, still turned in my
+direction apprehensively.
+
+I had hoped to see her let the little ones out of their hard shell,
+and see them first take the water; but that was too much to expect.
+One day I heard them whistling in the eggs; the next day, when I
+came, there was nothing to be seen on the nest-bog. I feared that
+something had heard their whistling and put an untimely end to the
+young Hukweems while mother bird was away. But when she came back,
+after a more fearful survey than usual of the old bark canoe, two
+downy little fellows came bobbing to meet her out of the grass, where
+she had hidden them and told them to stay till she came back.
+
+It was a rare treat to watch them at their first feeding, the little
+ones all eagerness, bobbing about in the delight of eating and the
+wonder of the new great world, the mother all tenderness and
+watchfulness. Hukweem had never looked to me so noble before. This
+great wild mother bird, moving ceaselessly with marvelous grace about
+her little ones, watching their play with exquisite fondness, and
+watching the great dangerous world for their sakes, now chiding them
+gently, now drawing near to touch them with her strong bill, or to rub
+their little cheeks with hers, or just to croon over them in an
+ecstasy of that wonderful mother love which makes the summer
+wilderness beautiful,--in ten minutes she upset all my theories, and
+won me altogether, spite of what I had heard and seen of her
+destructiveness on the fishing grounds. After all, why should she not
+fish as well as I? And then began the first lessons in swimming and
+hiding and diving, which I had waited so long to see.
+
+Later I saw her bring little fish, which she had slightly wounded,
+turn them loose in shallow water, and with a sharp cluck bring the
+young loons out of their hiding, to set them chasing and diving wildly
+for their own dinners. But before that happened there was almost a
+tragedy.
+
+One day, while the mother was gone fishing, the little ones came out
+of their hiding among the grasses, and ventured out some distance into
+the bay. It was their first journey alone into the world; they were
+full of the wonder and importance of it. Suddenly, as I watched, they
+began to dart about wildly, moving with astonishing rapidity for such
+little fellows, and whistling loudly. From the bank above, a swift
+ripple had cut out into the water between them and the only bit of bog
+with which they were familiar. Just behind the ripple were the sharp
+nose and the beady eyes of Musquash, who is always in some mischief of
+this kind. In one of his prowlings he had discovered the little brood;
+now he was manoeuvering craftily to keep the frightened youngsters
+moving till they should be tired out, while he himself crept carefully
+between them and the shore.
+
+Musquash knows well that when a young loon, or a shelldrake, or a
+black duck, is caught in the open like that, he always tries to get
+back where his mother hid him when she went away. That is what the
+poor little fellows were trying to do now, only to be driven back and
+kept moving wildly by the muskrat, who lifted himself now and then
+from the water, and wiggled his ugly jaws in anticipation of the
+feast. He had missed the eggs in his search; but young loon would be
+better, and more of it.--"There you are!" he snapped viciously,
+lunging at the nearest loon, which flashed under water and barely
+escaped.
+
+I had started up to interfere, for I had grown fond of the little wild
+things whose growth I had watched from the beginning, when a great
+splashing began on my left, and I saw the old mother bird coming like
+a fury. She was half swimming, half flying, tearing over the water at
+a great pace, a foamy white wake behind her.--"Now, you little
+villain, take your medicine. It's coming; it's coming," I cried
+excitedly, and dodged back to watch. But Musquash, intent on his evil
+doing (he has no need whatever to turn flesh-eater), kept on viciously
+after the exhausted little ones, paying no heed to his rear.
+
+Twenty yards away the mother bird, to my great astonishment, flashed
+out of sight under water. What could it mean! But there was little
+time to wonder. Suddenly a catapult seemed to strike the muskrat from
+beneath and lift him clear from the water. With a tremendous rush and
+sputter Hukweem came out beneath him, her great pointed bill driven
+through to his spine. Little need of my help now. With another
+straight hard drive, this time at eye and brain, she flung him aside
+disdainfully and rushed to her shivering little ones, questioning,
+chiding, praising them, all in the same breath, fluttering and
+cackling low in an hysteric wave of tenderness. Then she swam twice
+around the dead muskrat and led her brood away from the place.
+
+Perhaps it was to one of those same little ones that I owe a service
+for which I am more than grateful. It was in September, when I was at
+a lake ten miles away--the same lake into which a score of frolicking
+young loons gathered before moving south, and swam a race or two for
+my benefit. I was lost one day, hopelessly lost, in trying to make my
+way from a wild little lake where I had been fishing, to the large
+lake where my camp was. It was late afternoon. To avoid the long hard
+tramp down a river, up which I had come in the early morning, I
+attempted to cut across through unbroken forest without a compass.
+Traveling through a northern forest in summer is desperately hard
+work. The moss is ankle deep, the underbrush thick; fallen logs lie
+across each other in hopeless confusion, through and under and over
+which one must make his laborious way, stung and pestered by hordes of
+black flies and mosquitoes. So that, unless you have a strong instinct
+of direction, it is almost impossible to hold your course without a
+compass, or a bright sun, to guide you.
+
+I had not gone half the distance before I was astray. The sun was long
+obscured, and a drizzling rain set in, without any direction whatever
+in it by the time it reached the underbrush where I was. I had begun
+to make a little shelter, intending to put in a cheerless night there,
+when I heard a cry, and looking up caught a glimpse of Hukweem
+speeding high over the tree-tops. Far down on my right came a faint
+answering cry, and I hastened in its direction, making an Indian
+compass of broken twigs as I went along. Hukweem was a young loon, and
+was long in coming down. The crying ahead grew louder. Stirred up from
+their day rest by his arrival, the other loons began their sport
+earlier than usual. The crying soon became almost continuous, and I
+followed it straight to the lake.
+
+Once there, it was a simple matter to find the river and my old canoe
+waiting patiently under the alders in the gathering twilight. Soon I
+was afloat again, with a sense of unspeakable relief that only one
+can appreciate who has been lost and now hears the ripples sing under
+him, knowing that the cheerless woods lie behind, and that the
+camp-fire beckons beyond yonder point. The loons were hallooing far
+away, and I went over--this time in pure gratitude--to see them again.
+But my guide was modest and vanished post-haste into the mist the
+moment my canoe appeared.
+
+Since then, whenever I hear Hukweem in the night, or hear others speak
+of his unearthly laughter, I think of that cry over the tree-tops, and
+the thrilling answer far away. And the sound has a ring to it, in my
+ears, that it never had before. Hukweem the Night Voice found me
+astray in the woods, and brought me safe to a snug camp.--That is a
+service which one does not forget in the wilderness.
+
+
+
+
+
+                     GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES.
+
+
+
+Cheplahgan,       _chep-l�h�-gan_, the bald eagle.
+
+Chigwo�ltz,       _chig-wooltz�_, the bullfrog.
+
+Cl�te Scarpe,      a legendary hero, like Hiawatha, of the
+                   Northern Indians. Pronounced variously, Clote
+                   Scarpe, Groscap, Gluscap, etc.
+
+Hukweem,          _huk-weem�_, the great northern diver, or loon.
+
+Ismaques,         _iss-m�-ques�_, the fish-hawk.
+
+Kagax,            _kag�-ax_, the weasel.
+
+Killooleet,       _kil�-loo-leet_, the white-throated sparrow.
+
+Kookooskoos,      _koo-koo-skoos�_, the great horned owl.
+
+Lhoks,            _locks_, the panther.
+
+Malsun,           _mal�-sun_, the wolf.
+
+Meeko,            _meek�-o_, the red squirrel.
+
+Megaleep,         _meg�-�-leep_, the caribou.
+
+Milicete,         _mil�-i-cete_, the name of an Indian tribe;
+                   written also Malicete.
+
+Moktaques,        _mok-t�-ques_, the hare.
+
+Mooween,          _moo-ween�_, the black bear.
+
+Nemox,            _nem�-ox_, the fisher.
+
+Pekquam,          _pek-wam�_, the fisher.
+
+Seksagadagee,     _sek�-s�-ga-d�-gee_, the grouse.
+
+Tookhees,         _t�k�-hees_, the wood mouse.
+
+Upweekis,         _up-week�-iss_, the Canada lynx.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wilderness Ways
+
+Author: William J Long
+
+Illustrator: Charles Copeland
+
+Release Date: May 31, 2005 [EBook #15950]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILDERNESS WAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi, Sankar
+Viswanathan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+     <img src="images/image1.gif"
+        width="400" height="611"
+        alt="Front Covers"
+        title="Front Covers" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+   <a href="images/image2h.jpg" >
+     <img src="images/image2.jpg"
+        width="400" height="577"
+        alt="Frontispiece"
+        title="Frontispiece" />
+   </a>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<h1>WILDERNESS WAYS<br />
+<br />
+BY<br />
+<br />
+WILLIAM J. LONG<br />
+<br /></h1>
+<p class="center"><i>SECOND SERIES</i><br />
+<br />
+BOSTON, U.S.A.<br />
+<br />
+GINN &amp; COMPANY, PUBLISHERS<br />
+<br />
+The Athen&aelig;um Press<br />
+<br />
+1900<br />
+</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="center">TO KILLOOLEET, Little Sweet-Voice,<br />
+  who shares my camp and<br />
+  makes sunshine as I work and play.<br />
+</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_V" id="Page_V"></a>[V]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+  <p>The following sketches, like the "Ways of Wood Folk", are the result
+of many years of personal observation in the woods and fields. They
+are studies of animals, pure and simple, not of animals with human
+motives and imaginations.</p>
+
+  <p>Indeed, it is hardly necessary for genuine interest to give human
+traits to the beasts. Any animal is interesting enough as an animal,
+and has character enough of his own, without borrowing anything from
+man&mdash;as one may easily find out by watching long enough.</p>
+
+<p>Most wild creatures have but small measure of gentleness in them, and
+that only by instinct and at short stated seasons. Hence I have given
+both sides and both kinds, the shadows and lights, the savagery as
+well as the gentleness of the wilderness creatures.</p>
+
+<p>It were pleasanter, to be sure, especially when you have been deeply
+touched by some exquisite bit of animal devotion, to let it go at
+that, and to carry with you henceforth an ideal creature.</p>
+
+<p>But the whole truth is better&mdash;better for you, better for
+children&mdash;else personality becomes confused with mere animal
+individuality, and love turns to instinct, and sentiment vaporizes
+into sentimentality.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_VI" id="Page_VI"></a>[VI]</span></p>
+
+<p>This mother fox or fish-hawk here, this strong mother loon or lynx
+that to-day brings the quick moisture to your eyes by her utter
+devotion to the little helpless things which great Mother Nature gave
+her to care for, will to-morrow, when they are grown, drive those same
+little ones with savage treatment into the world to face its dangers
+alone, and will turn away from their sufferings thereafter with
+astounding indifference.</p>
+
+<p>It is well to remember this, and to give proper weight to the word,
+when we speak of the <i>love</i> of animals for their little ones.</p>
+
+<p>I met a bear once&mdash;but this foolish thing is not to be imitated&mdash;with
+two small cubs following at her heels. The mother fled into the brush;
+the cubs took to a tree. After some timorous watching I climbed after
+the cubs, and shook them off, and put them into a bag, and carried
+them to my canoe, squealing and appealing to the one thing in the
+woods that could easily have helped them. I was ready enough to quit
+all claims and to take to the brush myself upon inducement. But the
+mother had found a blueberry patch and was stuffing herself
+industriously.</p>
+
+<p>And I have seen other mother bears since then, and foxes and deer and
+ducks and sparrows, and almost all the wild creatures between, driving
+their own offspring savagely away. Generally the young go of their
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_VII" id="Page_VII"></a>[VII]</span>
+own accord as early as possible, knowing no affection but only
+dependence, and preferring liberty to authority; but more than once I
+have been touched by the sight of a little one begging piteously to be
+fed or just to stay, while the mother drove him away impatiently.
+Moreover, they all kill their weaklings, as a rule, and the burdensome
+members of too large a family. This is not poetry or idealization, but
+just plain animal nature.</p>
+
+<p>As for the male animals, little can be said truthfully for their
+devotion. Father fox and wolf, instead of caring for their mates and
+their offspring, as we fondly imagine, live apart by themselves in
+utter selfishness. They do nothing whatever for the support or
+instruction of the young, and are never suffered by the mothers to
+come into the den, lest they destroy their own little ones. One need
+not go to the woods to see this; his own stable or kennel, his own dog
+or cat will be likely to reveal the startling brutality at the first
+good opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>An indiscriminate love for all animals, likewise, is not the best
+sentiment to cultivate toward creation. Black snakes in a land of
+birds, sharks in the bluefish rips, rabbits in Australia, and weasels
+everywhere are out of place in the present economy of nature. Big owls
+and hawks, representing a yearly destruction of thousands of good game
+birds and of untold innocent songsters, may also be profitably
+studied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_VIII" id="Page_VIII"></a>[VIII]</span> with a gun sometimes instead of an opera-glass. A mink is
+good for nothing but his skin; a red squirrel&mdash;I hesitate to tell his
+true character lest I spoil too many tender but false ideals about him
+all at once.</p>
+
+<p>The point is this, that sympathy is too true a thing to be aroused
+falsely, and that a wise discrimination, which recognizes good and
+evil in the woods, as everywhere else in the world, and which loves
+the one and hates the other, is vastly better for children, young and
+old, than the blind sentimentality aroused by ideal animals with
+exquisite human propensities. Therefore I wrote the story of Kagax,
+simply to show him as he is, and so to make you hate him.</p>
+
+<p>In this one chapter, the story of Kagax the Weasel, I have gathered
+into a single animal the tricks and cruelties of a score of vicious
+little brutes that I have caught red-handed at their work. In the
+other chapters I have, for the most part, again searched my old
+notebooks and the records of wilderness camps, and put the individual
+animals down just as I found them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Wm. J. Long</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Stamford</span>, September, 1900.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_IX" id="Page_IX"></a>[IX]</span>
+
+</p></div>
+
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+<ol class="TOC">
+<li style="list-style-type: none"><span class="ralign">PAGE</span></li>
+</ol>
+<ol class="TOC">
+<li>MEGALEEP THE WANDERER
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></span>
+</li>
+</ol>
+<ol class="TOC">
+<li style="list-style-type: none">GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES
+<span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></span>
+</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p>
+
+<h2>I. MEGALEEP THE WANDERER.</h2>
+
+<div class="floatl">
+   <img src="images/image3.jpg"
+      height="439"
+      width="300"
+      alt="Megaleep"
+      title="Megaleep"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>Megaleep is the big woodland caribou of the northern wilderness. His
+Milicete name means The Wandering One, but it ought to mean the
+Mysterious and the Changeful as well. If you hear that he is bold and
+fearless, that is true; and if you are told that he is shy and wary
+and inapproachable, that is also true. For he is never the same two
+days in succession. At once shy and bold, solitary and gregarious;
+restless as a cloud, yet clinging to his feeding grounds, spite of
+wolves and hunters, till he leaves them of his own free will; wild as
+Kakagos the raven, but inquisitive as a blue jay,&mdash;he is the most
+fascinating and the least known of all the deer.</p>
+
+<p>One thing is quite sure, before you begin your study: he is never
+where his tracks are, nor anywhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span> near it. And if after a season's
+watching and following you catch one good glimpse of him, that is a
+good beginning.</p>
+
+
+<p>I had always heard and read of Megaleep as an awkward, ungainly
+animal, but almost my first glimpse of him scattered all that to the
+winds and set my nerves a-tingling in a way that they still remember.
+It was on a great chain of barrens in the New Brunswick wilderness. I
+was following the trail of a herd of caribou one day, when far ahead a
+strange clacking sound came ringing across the snow in the crisp
+winter air. I ran ahead to a point of woods that cut off my view from
+a five-mile barren, only to catch breath in astonishment and drop to
+cover behind a scrub spruce. Away up the barren my caribou, a big herd
+of them, were coming like an express train straight towards me. At
+first I could make out only a great cloud of steam, a whirl of flying
+snow, and here and there the angry shake of wide antlers or the gleam
+of a black muzzle. The loud clacking of their hoofs, sweeping nearer
+and nearer, gave a snap, a tingle, a wild exhilaration to their rush
+which made one want to shout and swing his hat. Presently I could make
+out the individual animals through the cloud of vapor that drove down
+the wind before them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> They were going at a splendid trot, rocking
+easily from side to side like pacing colts, power, grace, tirelessness
+in every stride. Their heads were high, their muzzles up, the antlers
+well back on heaving shoulders. Jets of steam burst from their
+nostrils at every bound; for the thermometer was twenty below zero,
+and the air snapping. A cloud of snow whirled out and up behind them;
+through it the antlers waved like bare oak boughs in the wind; the
+sound of their hoofs was like the clicking of mighty castanets&mdash;"Oh
+for a sledge and bells!" I thought; for Santa Claus never had such a
+team.</p>
+
+<p>So they came on swiftly, magnificently, straight on to the cover
+behind which I crouched with nerves thrilling as at a cavalry
+charge,&mdash;till I sprang to my feet with a shout and swung my hat; for,
+as there was meat enough in camp, I had small wish to use my rifle,
+and no desire whatever to stand that rush at close quarters and be run
+down. There was a moment of wild confusion out on the barren just in
+front of me. The long swinging trot, that caribou never change if they
+can help it, was broken into an awkward jumping gallop. The front rank
+reared, plunged, snorted a warning, but were forced onward by the
+pressure behind. Then the leading bulls gave a few mighty bounds which
+brought them close up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> to me, but left a clear space for the
+frightened, crowding animals behind. The swiftest shot ahead to the
+lead; the great herd lengthened out from its compact mass; swerved
+easily to the left, as at a word of command; crashed through the
+fringe of evergreen in which I had been hiding,&mdash;out into the open
+again with a wild plunge and a loud cracking of hoofs, where they all
+settled into their wonderful trot again, and kept on steadily across
+the barren below.</p>
+
+<p>That was the sight of a lifetime. One who saw it could never again
+think of caribou as ungainly animals.</p>
+
+<p>Megaleep belongs to the tribe of Ishmael. Indeed, his Latin name, as
+well as his Indian one, signifies The Wanderer; and if you watch him a
+little while you will understand perfectly why he is called so. The
+first time I ever met him in summer, in strong contrast to the winter
+herd, made his name clear in a moment. It was twilight on a wilderness
+lake. I was sitting in my canoe by the inlet, wondering what kind of
+bait to use for a big trout which lived in an eddy behind a rock, and
+which disdained everything I offered him. The swallows were busy,
+skimming low, and taking the young mosquitoes as they rose from the
+water. One dipped to the surface near the eddy. As he came down I saw
+a swift gleam in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> depths below. He touched the water; there was a
+swirl, a splash&mdash;and the swallow was gone. The trout had him.</p>
+
+<p>Then a cow caribou came out of the woods onto the grassy point above
+me to drink. First she wandered all over the point, making it look
+afterwards as if a herd had passed. Then she took a sip of water by a
+rock, crossed to my side of the point, and took a sip there; then to
+the end of the point, and another sip; then back to the first place. A
+nibble of grass, and she waded far out from shore to sip there; then
+back, with a nod to a lily pad, and a sip nearer the brook. Finally
+she meandered a long way up the shore out of sight, and when I picked
+up the paddle to go, she came back again. Truly a <i>Wandergeist</i> of the
+woods, like the plover of the coast, who never knows what he wants,
+nor why he circles about so, nor where he is going next.</p>
+
+<p>If you follow the herds over the barrens and through the forest in
+winter, you find the same wandering, unsatisfied creature. And if you
+are a sportsman and a keen hunter, with well established ways of
+trailing and stalking, you will be driven to desperation a score of
+times before you get acquainted with Megaleep. He travels enormous
+distances without any known object. His trail is everywhere; he is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span>
+himself nowhere. You scour the country for a week, crossing
+innumerable trails, thinking the surrounding woods must be full of
+caribou; then a man in a lumber camp, where you are overtaken by
+night, tells you that he saw the herd you are after 'way down on the
+Renous barrens, thirty miles below. You go there, and have the same
+experience,&mdash;signs everywhere, old signs, new signs, but never a
+caribou. And, ten to one, while you are there, the caribou are
+sniffing your snowshoe track suspiciously back on the barrens that you
+have just left.</p>
+
+<p>Even in feeding, when you are hot on their trail and steal forward
+expecting to see them every moment, it is the same exasperating story.
+They dig a hole through four feet of packed snow to nibble the
+reindeer lichen that grows everywhere on the barrens. Before it is
+half eaten they wander off to the next barren and dig a larger hole;
+then away to the woods for the gray-green hanging moss that grows on
+the spruces. Here is a fallen tree half covered with the rich food.
+Megaleep nibbles a bite or two, then wanders away and away in search
+of another tree like the one he has just left.</p>
+
+<p>And when you find him at last, the chances are still against you. You
+are stealing forward cautiously when a fresh sign attracts attention.
+You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> stop to examine it a moment. Something gray, dim, misty, seems to
+drift like a cloud through the trees ahead. You scarcely notice it
+till, on your right, a stir, and another cloud, and another&mdash;The
+caribou, quick, a score of them! But before your rifle is up and you
+have found the sights, the gray things melt into the gray woods and
+drift away; and the stalk begins all over again.</p>
+
+<p>The reason for this restlessness is not far to seek. Megaleep's
+ancestors followed regular migrations in spring and autumn, like the
+birds, on the unwooded plains beyond the Arctic Circle. Megaleep never
+migrates; but the old instinct is in him and will not let him rest. So
+he wanders through the year, and is never satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately nature has been kind to Megaleep in providing him with
+means to gratify his wandering disposition. In winter, moose and red
+deer must gather into yards and stay there. With the first heavy storm
+of December, they gather in small bands here and there on the hardwood
+ridges, and begin to make paths in the snow,&mdash;long, twisted, crooked
+paths, running for miles in every direction, crossing and recrossing
+in a tangle utterly hopeless to any head save that of a deer or moose.
+These paths they keep tramped down and more or less open all winter,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span>
+so as to feed on the twigs and bark growing on either side. Were it
+not for this curious provision, a single severe winter would leave
+hardly a moose or a deer alive in the woods; for their hoofs are sharp
+and sink deep, and with six feet of snow on a level they can scarcely
+run half a mile outside their paths without becoming hopelessly
+stalled or exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>It is this great tangle of paths, by the way, which makes a deer or a
+moose yard; and not the stupid hole in the snow which is pictured in
+the geographies and most natural history books.</p>
+
+<p>But Megaleep the Wanderer makes no such provision he depends upon
+Mother Nature to take care of him. In summer he is brown, like the
+great tree trunks among which he moves unseen. Then the frog of his
+foot expands and grows spongy, so that he can cling to the
+mountain-side like a goat, or move silently over the dead leaves. In
+winter he becomes a soft gray, the better to fade into a snowstorm, or
+to stand concealed in plain sight on the edges of the gray, desolate
+barrens that he loves. Then the frog of his foot arches up out of the
+way; the edges of his hoof grow sharp and shell-like, so that he can
+travel over glare ice without slipping, and cut the crust to dig down
+for the moss upon which he feeds. The hoofs, moreover, are very large
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span>
+and deeply cleft, so as to spread widely when his weight is on them.
+When you first find his track in the snow, you rub your eyes, thinking
+that a huge ox must have passed that way. The dew-claws are also
+large, and the ankle joint so flexible that it lets them down upon the
+snow. So Megaleep has a kind of natural snowshoe with which he moves
+easily over the crust, and, except in very deep, soft snows, wanders
+at will, while other deer are prisoners in their yards. It is the
+snapping of these loose hoofs and ankle joints that makes the merry
+clacking sound as caribou run.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, however, they overestimate their abilities, and their
+wandering disposition brings them into trouble. Once I found a herd of
+seven up to their backs in soft snow, and tired out,&mdash;a strange
+condition for a caribou to be in. They were taking the affair
+philosophically, resting till they should gather strength to flounder
+to some spruce tops where moss was plenty. When I approached gently on
+snowshoes (I had been hunting them diligently the week before to kill
+them; but this put a different face on the matter) they gave a bound
+or two, then settled deep in the snow, and turned their heads and said
+with their great soft eyes: "You have hunted us. Here we are, at your
+mercy."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span>
+
+</p><p>They were very much frightened at first; then I thought they grew a
+bit curious, as I sat down peaceably in the snow to watch them. One&mdash;a
+doe, more exhausted than the others, and famished&mdash;even nibbled a bit
+of moss that I pushed near her with a stick. I had picked it with
+gloves, so that the smell of my hand was not on it. After an hour or
+so, if I moved softly, they let me approach quite up to them without
+shaking their antlers or renewing their desperate attempts to flounder
+away. But I did not touch them. That is a degradation which no wild
+creature will permit when he is free; and I would not take advantage
+of their helplessness.</p>
+
+<p>Did they starve in the snow? you ask. Oh, no! I went to the place next
+day and found that they had gained the spruce tops, ploughing through
+the snow in great bounds, following the track of the strongest, which
+went ahead to break the way. There they fed and rested, then went to
+some dense thickets where they passed the night. In a day or two the
+snow settled and hardened, and they took to their wandering again.</p>
+
+<p>Later, in hunting, I crossed their tracks several times, and once I
+saw them across a barren; but I left them undisturbed, to follow other
+trails. We had eaten together; they had fed from my hand; and there
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span>
+is no older truce on earth than that, not even in the unchanging East,
+where it originated.</p>
+
+<p>Megaleep in a storm is a most curious creature, the nearest thing to a
+ghost to be found in the woods. More than other animals he feels the
+falling barometer. His movements at such times drive you to
+desperation, if you are following him; for he wanders unceasingly.
+When the storm breaks he has a way of appearing suddenly, as if he
+were seeking you, when by his trail you thought him miles ahead. And
+the way he disappears&mdash;just melts into the thick driving flakes and
+the shrouded trees&mdash;is most uncanny. Six or seven caribou once played
+hide-and-seek with me that way, giving me vague glimpses here and
+there, drawing near to get my scent, yet keeping me looking up wind
+into the driving snow where I could see nothing distinctly. And all
+the while they drifted about like so many huge flakes of the storm,
+watching my every movement, seeing me perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>At such times they fear little, and even lay aside their usual
+caution. I remember trailing a large herd one day from early morning,
+keeping near them all the time, and jumping them half a dozen times,
+yet never getting a glimpse because of their extreme watchfulness. For
+some reason they were unwilling to leave a small chain of barrens.
+Perhaps they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> knew the storm was coming, when they would be safe; and
+so, instead of swinging off into a ten-mile straightaway trot at the
+first alarm, they kept dodging back and forth within a two-mile
+circle. At last, late in the afternoon, I followed the trail to the
+edge of dense evergreen thickets. Caribou generally rest in open woods
+or on the windward edge of a barren. Eyes for the open, nose for the
+cover, is their motto. And I thought, "They know perfectly well I am
+following them, and so have lain down in that tangle. If I go in, they
+will hear me; a wood mouse could hardly keep quiet in such a place. If
+I go round, they will catch my scent; if I wait, so will they; if I
+jump them, the scrub will cover their retreat perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>As I sat down in the snow to think it over, a heavy rush deep within
+the thicket told me that something, not I certainly, had again started
+them. Suddenly the air darkened, and above the excitement of the hunt
+I felt the storm coming. A storm in the woods is no joke when you are
+six miles from camp without axe or blanket. I broke away from the
+trail and started for the head of the second barren on the run. If I
+could make that, I was safe; for there was a stream near, which led
+near to camp; and one cannot very well lose a stream, even in a
+snowstorm. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> before I was halfway the flakes were driving thick and
+soft in my face. Another half-mile, and one could not see fifty feet
+in any direction. Still I kept on, holding my course by the wind and
+my compass. Then, at the foot of the second barren, my snowshoes
+stumbled into great depressions in the snow, and I found myself on the
+fresh trail of my caribou again. "If I am lost, I will at least have a
+caribou steak, and a skin to wrap me up in," I said, and plunged after
+them. As I went, the old Mother Goose rhyme of nursery days came back
+and set itself to hunting music:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="i1">Bye, baby bunting,</div>
+<div class="i1">Daddy's gone a hunting,</div>
+<div class="i1">For to catch a rabbit skin</div>
+<div class="i1">To wrap the baby bunting in.</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Presently I began to sing it aloud. It cheered one up in the storm,
+and the lilt of it kept time to the leaping kind of gallop which is
+the easiest way to run on snowshoes: "Bye, baby bunting; bye, baby
+bunting&mdash;Hello!"</p>
+
+<p>A dark mass loomed suddenly up before me on the open barren. The storm
+lightened a bit, before setting in heavier; and there were the caribou
+just in front of me, standing in a compact mass, the weaker ones in
+the middle. They had no thought nor fear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> of me apparently; they
+showed no sign of anger or uneasiness. Indeed, they barely moved aside
+as I snowshoed up, in plain sight, without any precaution whatever.
+And these were the same animals that had fled upon my approach at
+daylight, and that had escaped me all day with marvelous cunning.</p>
+
+<p>As with other deer, the storm is Megaleep's natural protector. When it
+comes he thinks that he is safe; that nobody can see him; that the
+falling snow will fill his tracks and kill his scent; and that
+whatever follows must speedily seek cover for itself. So he gives up
+watching, and lies down where he will. So far as his natural enemies
+are concerned, he is safe in this; for lynx and wolf and panther, seek
+shelter with a falling barometer. They can neither see nor smell; and
+they are all afraid. I have often noticed that among all animals and
+birds, from the least to the greatest, there is always a truce when
+the storms are out.</p>
+
+<p>But the most curious thing I ever stumbled into was a caribou school.
+That sounds queer; but it is more common in the wilderness than one
+thinks. All gregarious animals have perfectly well defined social
+regulations, which the young must learn and respect. To learn them,
+they go to school in their own interesting way.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span></p>
+
+<p>The caribou I am speaking of now are all woodland caribou&mdash;larger,
+finer animals every way than the barren-ground caribou of the desolate
+unwooded regions farther north. In summer they live singly, rearing
+their young in deep forest seclusions. There each one does as he
+pleases. So when you meet a caribou in summer, he is a different
+creature, and has more unknown and curious ways than when he runs with
+the herd in midwinter. I remember a solitary old bull that lived on
+the mountain-side opposite my camp one summer, a most interesting
+mixture of fear and boldness, of reserve and intense curiosity. After
+I had hunted him a few times, and he found that my purpose was wholly
+peaceable, he took to hunting me in the same way, just to find out who
+I was, and what queer thing I was doing. Sometimes I would see him at
+sunset on a dizzy cliff across the lake, watching for the curl of
+smoke or the coming of a canoe. And when I dove in for a swim and went
+splashing, dog-paddle way, about the island where my tent was, he
+would walk about in the greatest excitement, and start a dozen times
+to come down; but always he ran back for another look, as if
+fascinated. Again he would come down on a burned point near the deep
+hole where I was fishing, and, hiding his body in the underbrush,
+would push his horns up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> into the bare branches of a withered shrub,
+so as to make them inconspicuous, and stand watching me. As long as he
+was quiet, it was impossible to see him there; but I could always make
+him start nervously by flashing a looking-glass, or flopping a fish in
+the water, or whistling a jolly Irish jig. And when I tied a bright
+tomato can to a string and set it whirling round my head, or set my
+handkerchief for a flag on the end of my trout rod, then he could not
+stand it another minute, but came running down to the shore, to stamp,
+and fidget, and stare nervously, and scare himself with twenty alarms
+while trying to make up his mind to swim out and satisfy his burning
+desire to know all about it. But I am forgetting the caribou schools.</p>
+
+<p>Wherever there are barrens&mdash;treeless plains in the midst of dense
+forest&mdash;the caribou collect in small herds as winter comes on,
+following the old gregarious instinct. Then each one cannot do as he
+pleases any more; and it is for this winter and spring life together,
+when laws must be known, and the rights of the individual be laid
+aside for the good of the herd, that the young are trained.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon in late summer I was drifting down the Toledi River,
+casting for trout, when a movement in the bushes ahead caught my
+attention. A great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> swampy tract of ground, covered with grass and low
+brush, spread out on either side the stream. From the canoe I made out
+two or three waving lines of bushes where some animals were making
+their way through the swamp towards a strip of big timber which formed
+a kind of island in the middle.</p>
+
+<p>Pushing my canoe into the grass, I made for a point just astern of the
+nearest quivering line of bushes. A glance at a bit of soft ground
+showed me the trail of a mother caribou with her calf. I followed
+cautiously, the wind being ahead in my favor. They were not hurrying,
+and I took good pains not to alarm them.</p>
+
+<p>When I reached the timber and crept like a snake through the
+underbrush, there were the caribou, five or six mother animals, and
+nearly twice as many little ones, well grown, which had evidently just
+come in from all directions. They were gathered in a natural opening,
+fairly clear of bushes, with a fallen tree or two, which served a good
+purpose later. The sunlight fell across it in great golden bars,
+making light and shadow to play in; all around was the great marsh,
+giving protection from enemies; dense underbrush screened them from
+prying eyes&mdash;and this was their schoolroom.</p>
+
+<p>The little ones were pushed out into the middle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> away from the
+mothers to whom they clung instinctively, and were left to get
+acquainted with each other, which they did very shyly at first, like
+so many strange children. It was all new and curious, this meeting of
+their kind; for till now they had lived in dense solitudes, each one
+knowing no living creature save its own mother. Some were timid, and
+backed away as far as possible into the shadow, looking with wild,
+wide eyes from one to another of the little caribou, and bolting to
+their mothers' sides at every unusual movement. Others were bold, and
+took to butting at the first encounter. But careful, kindly eyes
+watched over them. Now and then a mother caribou would come from the
+shadows and push a little one gently from his retreat under a bush out
+into the company. Another would push her way between two heads that
+lowered at each other threateningly, and say with a warning shake of
+her head that butting was no good way to get along together. I had
+once thought, watching a herd on the barrens through my glasses, that
+they are the gentlest of animals with each other. Here in the little
+school in the heart of the swamp I found the explanation of things.</p>
+
+<p>For over an hour I lay there and watched, my curiosity growing more
+eager every moment; for most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> of what I saw I could not comprehend,
+having no key, nor understanding why certain youngsters, who needed
+reproof according to my standards, were let alone, and others kept
+moving constantly, and still others led aside often to be talked to by
+their mothers. But at last came a lesson in which all joined, and
+which could not be misunderstood, not even by a man. It was the
+jumping lesson.</p>
+
+<p>Caribou are naturally poor jumpers. Beside a deer, who often goes out
+of his way to jump a fallen tree just for the fun of it, they have no
+show whatever; though they can travel much farther in a day and much
+easier. Their gait is a swinging trot, from which it is impossible to
+jump; and if you frighten them out of their trot into a gallop and
+keep them at it, they soon grow exhausted. Countless generations on
+the northern wastes, where there is no need of jumping, have bred this
+habit, and modified their muscles accordingly. But now a race of
+caribou has moved south into the woods, where great trees lie fallen
+across the way, and where, if Megaleep is in a hurry or there is
+anybody behind him, jumping is a necessity. Still he doesn't like it,
+and avoids it whenever possible. The little ones, left to themselves,
+would always crawl under a tree, or trot round it. And this is another
+thing to overcome,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> and another lesson to be taught in the caribou
+school.</p>
+
+<p>As I watched them the mothers all came out from the shadows and began
+trotting round the opening, the little ones keeping close as possible,
+each one to its mother's side. Then the old ones went faster; the
+calves were left in a long line stringing out behind. Suddenly the
+leader veered in to the edge of the timber and went over a fallen tree
+with a jump; the cows followed splendidly, rising on one side, falling
+gracefully on the other, like gray waves racing past the end of a
+jetty. But the first little one dropped his head obstinately at the
+tree and stopped short. The next one did the same thing; only he ran
+his head into the first one's legs and knocked them out from under
+him. The others whirled with a <i>ba-a-a-ah</i>, and scampered round the
+tree and up to their mothers, who had turned now and stood watching
+anxiously to see the effect of their lesson. Then it began over again.</p>
+
+<p>It was true kindergarten teaching; for under guise of a frolic the
+calves were being taught a needful lesson,&mdash;not only to jump, but, far
+more important than that, to follow a leader, and to go where he goes
+without question or hesitation. For the leaders on the barrens are
+wise old bulls that make no mistakes. Most of the little caribou took
+to the sport very well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> and presently followed the mothers over the
+low hurdles. But a few were timid; and then came the most intensely
+interesting bit of the whole strange school, when a little one would
+be led to a tree and butted from behind till he took the jump.</p>
+
+<p>There was no "consent of the governed" in that governing. The mother
+knew, and the calf didn't, just what was good for him.</p>
+
+<p>It was this last lesson that broke up the school. Just in front of my
+hiding place a tree fell out into the opening. A mother caribou
+brought her calf up to this unsuspectingly, and leaped over, expecting
+the little one to follow. As she struck she whirled like a top and
+stood like a beautiful statue, her head pointing in my direction. Her
+eyes were bright with fear, the ears set forward, the nostrils spread
+to catch every tainted atom from the air. Then she turned and glided
+silently away, the little one close to her side, looking up and
+touching her frequently as if to whisper, <i>What is it? what is it?</i>
+but making no sound. There was no signal given, no alarm of any kind
+that I could understand; yet the lesson stopped instantly. The caribou
+glided away like shadows. Over across the opening a bush swayed here
+and there; a leaf quivered as if something touched its branch. Then
+the schoolroom was empty and the woods all still.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span></p>
+
+<p>There is another curious habit of Megaleep; and this one I am utterly
+at a loss to account for. When he is old and feeble, and the tireless
+muscles will no longer carry him with the herd over the wind-swept
+barrens, and he falls sick at last, he goes to a spot far away in the
+woods, where generations of his ancestors have preceded him, and there
+lays him down to die. It is the caribou burying ground; and all the
+animals of a certain district, or a certain herd (I am unable to tell
+which), will go there when sick or sore wounded, if they have strength
+enough to reach the spot. For it is far away from the scene of their
+summer homes and their winter wanderings.</p>
+
+<p>I know one such place, and visited it twice from my summer camp. It is
+in a dark tamarack swamp by a lonely lake at the head of the
+Little-South-West Miramichi River, in New Brunswick. I found it one
+summer when trying to force my way from the big lake to a smaller one,
+where trout were plenty. In the midst of the swamp I stumbled upon a
+pair of caribou skeletons, which surprised me; for there were no
+hunters within a hundred miles, and at that time the lake had lain for
+many years unvisited. I thought of fights between bucks, and bull
+moose, how two bulls will sometimes lock horns in a rush, and are too
+weakened to break the lock, and so die<span class="pagenum">
+<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> together of exhaustion.
+Caribou are more peaceable; they rarely fight that way; and, besides,
+the horns here were not locked together, but lying well apart. As I
+searched about, looking for the explanation of things, thinking of
+wolves, yet wondering why the bones were not gnawed, I found another
+skeleton, much older, then four or five more; some quite fresh, others
+crumbling into mould. Bits of old bone and some splendid antlers were
+scattered here and there through the underbrush; and when I scraped
+away the dead leaves and moss, there were older bones and fragments
+mouldering beneath.</p>
+
+<p>I scarcely understood the meaning of it at the time; but since then I
+have met men, Indians and hunters, who have spent much time in the
+wilderness, who speak of "bone yards" which they have discovered,
+places where they can go at any time and be sure of finding a good set
+of caribou antlers. And they say that the caribou go there to die.</p>
+
+<p>All animals, when feeble with age, or sickly, or wounded, have the
+habit of going away deep into the loneliest coverts, and there lying
+down where the leaves shall presently cover them. So that one rarely
+finds a dead bird or animal in the woods where thousands die yearly.
+Even your dog, that was born and lived by your house, often
+disappears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> when you thought him too feeble to walk. Death calls him
+gently; the old wolf stirs deep within him, and he goes away where the
+master he served will never find him. And so with your cat, which is
+only skin-deep a domestic animal; and so with your canary, which in
+death alone would be free, and beats his failing wings against the
+cage in which he lived so long content. But these all go away singly,
+each to his own place. The caribou is the only animal I know that
+remembers, when his separation comes, the ties which bound him to the
+herd winter after winter, through sun and storm, in the forest where
+all was peace and plenty, and on the lonely barrens where the gray
+wolf howled on his track; so that he turns with his last strength from
+the herd he is leaving to the greater herd which has gone before
+him&mdash;still following his leaders, remembering his first lesson to the
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes I have wondered whether this also were taught in the caribou
+school; whether once in his life Megaleep were led to the spot and
+made to pass through it, so that he should feel its meaning and
+remember. That is not likely; for the one thing which an animal cannot
+understand is death. And there were no signs of living caribou
+anywhere near the place that I discovered; though down at the other
+end of the lake their tracks were everywhere.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p>
+
+<p>There are other questions, which one can only ask without answering.
+Is this silent gathering merely a tribute to the old law of the herd,
+or does Megaleep, with his last strength, still think to cheat his old
+enemy, and go away where the wolf that followed him all his life shall
+not find him? How was his resting place first selected, and what
+leaders searched out the ground? What sound or sign, what murmur of
+wind in the pines, or lap of ripples on the shore, or song of the
+veery at twilight made them pause and say, <i>Here is the place</i>?
+How does he know, he whose thoughts are all of life, and who never
+looked on death, where the great silent herd is that no caribou ever
+sees but once? And what strange instinct guides Megaleep to the spot
+where all his wanderings end at last?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="II_KILLOOLEET_LITTLE_SWEET-VOICE" id="II_KILLOOLEET_LITTLE_SWEET-VOICE"></a>II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE.</h2>
+<div class="floatl">
+   <img src="images/image4.jpg"
+      height="344"
+      width="300"
+      alt="Killooleet"
+      title="Killooleet"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>The day was cold, the woods were wet, and the weather was beastly
+altogether when Killooleet first came and sang on my ridgepole. The
+fishing was poor down in the big lake, and there were signs of
+civilization here and there, in the shape of settlers' cabins, which
+we did not like; so we had pushed up river, Simmo and I, thirty miles
+in the rain, to a favorite camping ground on a smaller lake, where we
+had the wilderness all to ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>The rain was still falling, and the lake white-capped, and the forest
+all misty and wind-blown when we ran our canoes ashore by the old
+cedar that marked our landing place. First we built a big fire to dry
+some boughs to sleep upon; then we built our houses, Simmo a bark
+<i>commoosie</i>, and I a little tent; and I was inside, getting dry
+clothes out <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> of a rubber bag, when I heard a white-throated sparrow
+calling cheerily his Indian name, <i>O hear, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!</i> And the sound was so sunny, so good
+to hear in the steady drip of rain on the roof, that I went out to see
+the little fellow who had bid us welcome to the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>Simmo had heard too. He was on his hands and knees, just his dark face
+peering by the corner stake of his <i>commoosie</i>, so as to see better
+the little singer on my tent.&mdash;"Have better weather and better luck
+now. Killooleet sing on ridgepole," he said confidently. Then we
+spread some cracker crumbs for the guest and turned in to sleep till
+better times.</p>
+
+<p>That was the beginning of a long acquaintance. It was also the first
+of many social calls from a whole colony of white-throats (Tom-Peabody
+birds) that lived on the mountain-side just behind my tent, and that
+came one by one to sing to us, and to get acquainted, and to share our
+crumbs. Sometimes, too, in rainy weather, when the woods seemed wetter
+than the lake, and Simmo would be sleeping philosophically, and I
+reading, or tying trout flies in the tent, I would hear a gentle stir
+and a rustle or two just outside, under the tent fly. Then, if I crept
+out quietly, I would find Killooleet exploring my goods to find where
+the crackers grew, or just resting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> contentedly under the fly where it
+was dry and comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>It was good to live there among them, with the mountain at our backs
+and the lake at our feet, and peace breathing in every breeze or
+brooding silently over the place at twilight. Rain or shine, day or
+night, these white-throated sparrows are the sunniest, cheeriest folk
+to be found anywhere in the woods. I grew to understand and love the
+Milicete name, Killooleet, Little Sweet-Voice, for its expressiveness.
+"Hour-Bird" the Micmacs call him; for they say he sings every hour,
+and so tells the time, "all same's one white man's watch." And indeed
+there is rarely an hour, day or night, in the northern woods when you
+cannot hear Killooleet singing. Other birds grow silent after they
+have won their mates, or they grow fat and lazy as summer advances, or
+absorbed in the care of their young, and have no time nor thought for
+singing. But not so Killooleet. He is kinder to his mate after he has
+won her, and never lets selfishness or the summer steal away his
+music; for he knows that the woods are brighter for his singing.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, at night, I would, take a brand from the fire, and follow a
+deer path that wound about the mountain, or steal away into a dark
+thicket and strike a parlor match. As the flame shot up, lighting its
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span>
+little circle of waiting leaves, there would be a stir beside me in
+the underbrush, or overhead in the fir; then tinkling out of the
+darkness, like a brook under the snow, would come the low clear strain
+of melody that always set my heart a-dancing,&mdash;<i>I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet</i>, the good-night song of my gentle
+neighbor. Then along the path a little way, and another match, and
+another song to make one better and his rest sweeter.</p>
+
+<p>By day I used to listen to them, hours long at a stretch, practicing
+to perfect their song. These were the younger birds, of course; and
+for a long time they puzzled me. Those who know Killooleet's song will
+remember that it begins with three clear sweet notes; but very few
+have observed the break between the second and third of these. I
+noticed, first of all, that certain birds would start the song twenty
+times in succession, yet never get beyond the second note. And when I
+crept up, to find out about it, I would find them sitting
+disconsolately, deep in shadow, instead of out in the light where they
+love to sing, with a pitiful little droop of wings and tail, and the
+air of failure and dejection in every movement. Then again these same
+singers would touch the third note, and always in such cases they
+would prolong the last trill, the <i>lillooleet-lillooleet</i> (the
+<i>Peabody-Peabody</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> as some think of it), to an indefinite length,
+instead of stopping at the second or third repetition, which is the
+rule with good singers. Then they would come out of the shadow, and
+stir about briskly, and sing again with an air of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>One day, while lying still in the underbrush watching a wood mouse,
+Killooleet, a fine male bird and a perfect singer, came and sang on a
+branch just over my head, not noticing me. Then I discovered that
+there is a trill, a tiny grace note or yodel, at the end of his second
+note. I listened carefully to other singers, as close as I could get,
+and found that it is always there, and is the one difficult part of
+the song. You must be very close to the bird to appreciate the beauty
+of this little yodel; for ten feet away it sounds like a faint cluck
+interrupting the flow of the third note; and a little farther away you
+cannot hear it at all.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+   <a href="images/image5h.jpg" >
+     <img src="images/image5.jpg"
+        width="400" height="566"
+        alt="Killooleet"
+        title="Killooleet" />
+   </a>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Whatever its object, Killooleet regards this as the indispensable part
+of his song, and never goes on to the third note unless he gets the
+second perfectly. That accounts for the many times when one hears only
+the first two notes. That accounts also for the occasional prolonged
+trill which one hears; for when a young bird has tried many times for
+his grace note without success, and then gets it unexpectedly, he is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> so pleased with himself that he forgets he is not Whippoorwill, who
+tries to sing as long as the brook without stopping, and so keeps up
+the final <i>lillooleet-lillooleet</i> as long as he has an atom of breath
+left to do it with.</p>
+
+<p>But of all the Killooleets,&mdash;and there were many that I soon
+recognized, either by their songs, or by some peculiarity in their
+striped caps or brown jackets,&mdash;the most interesting was the one who
+first perched on my ridgepole and bade me welcome to his camping
+ground. I soon learned to distinguish him easily; his cap was very
+bright, and his white cravat very full, and his song never stopped at
+the second note, for he had mastered the trill perfectly. Then, too,
+he was more friendly and fearless than all the others. The morning
+after our arrival (it was better weather, as Simmo and Killooleet had
+predicted) we were eating breakfast by the fire, when he lit on the
+ground close by, and turned his head sidewise to look at us curiously.
+I tossed him a big crumb, which made him run away in fright; but when
+he thought we were not looking he stole back, touched, tasted, ate the
+whole of it. And when I threw him another crumb, he hopped to meet it.</p>
+
+<p>After that he came regularly to meals, and would look critically over
+the tin plate which I placed at my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> feet, and pick and choose daintily
+from the cracker and trout and bacon and porridge which I offered him.
+Soon he began to take bits away with him, and I could hear him, just
+inside the fringe of underbrush, persuading his mate to come too and
+share his plate. But she was much shyer than he; it was several days
+before I noticed her flitting in and out of the shadowy underbrush;
+and when I tossed her the first crumb, she flew away in a terrible
+fright. Gradually, however, Killooleet persuaded her that we were
+kindly, and she came often to meals; but she would never come near, to
+eat from my tin plate, till after I had gone away.</p>
+
+<p>Never a day now passed that one or both of the birds did not rest on
+my tent. When I put my head out, like a turtle out of his shell, in
+the early morning to look at the weather, Killooleet would look down
+from the projecting end of the ridgepole and sing good-morning. And
+when I had been out late on the lake, night-fishing, or following the
+inlet for beaver, or watching the grassy points for caribou, or just
+drifting along shore silently to catch the night sounds and smells of
+the woods, I would listen with childish anticipation for Killooleet's
+welcome as I approached the landing. He had learned to recognize the
+sounds of my coming, the rub of a careless paddle, the ripple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> of
+water under the bow, or the grating of pebbles on the beach; and with
+Simmo asleep, and the fire low, it was good to be welcomed back by a
+cheery little voice in the darkness; for he always sang when he heard
+me. Sometimes I would try to surprise him; but his sleep was too light
+and his ears too keen. The canoe would glide up to the old cedar and
+touch the shore noiselessly; but with the first crunch of gravel under
+my foot, or the rub of my canoe as I lifted it out, he would waken;
+and his song, all sweetness and cheer, <i>I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet</i>, would ripple out of the dark
+underbrush where his nest was.</p>
+
+<p>I am glad now to think that I never saw that nest, though it was
+scarcely ten yards from my tent, until after the young had flown, and
+Killooleet cared no more about it. I knew the bush in which it was,
+close by the deer path; could pick out from my fireplace the thick
+branch that sheltered it; for I often watched the birds coming and
+going. I have no doubt that Killooleet would have welcomed me there
+without fear; but his mate never laid aside her shyness about it,
+never went to it directly when I was looking, and I knew he would like
+me better if I respected her little secret.</p>
+
+<p>Soon, from the mate's infrequent visits, and from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> the amount of food
+which Killooleet took away with him, I knew she was brooding her eggs.
+And when at last both birds came together, and, instead of helping
+themselves hungrily, each took the largest morsel he could carry and
+hurried away to the nest, I knew that the little ones were come; and I
+spread the plate more liberally, and moved it away to the foot of the
+old cedar, where Killooleet's mate would not be afraid to come at any
+time.</p>
+
+<p>One day, not long after, as I sat at a late breakfast after the
+morning's fishing, there was a great stir in the underbrush. Presently
+Killooleet came skipping out, all fuss and feathers, running back and
+forth with an air of immense importance between the last bush and the
+plate by the cedar, crying out in his own way, "Here it is, here it
+is, all right, just by the old tree as usual. Crackers, trout, brown
+bread, porridge; come on, come on; don't be afraid. <i>He's</i> here, but
+he won't harm. I know him. Come on, come on!"</p>
+
+<p>Soon his little gray mate appeared under the last bush, and after much
+circumspection came hopping towards the breakfast; and after her, in a
+long line, five little Killooleets, hopping, fluttering, cheeping,
+stumbling,&mdash;all in a fright at the big world, but all in a desperate
+hurry for crackers and porridge <i>ad libitum</i>; now casting hungry eyes
+at the plate under the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> cedar, now stopping to turn their heads
+sidewise to see the big kind animal with only two legs, that
+Killooleet had told them about, no doubt, many times.</p>
+
+<p>After that we had often seven guests to breakfast, instead of two. It
+was good to hear them, the lively <i>tink, tink-a-tink</i> of their little
+bills on the tin plate in a merry tattoo, as I ate my own tea and
+trout thankfully. I had only to raise my eyes to see them in a bobbing
+brown ring about my bounty; and, just beyond them, the lap of ripples
+on the beach, the lake glinting far away in the sunshine, and a bark
+canoe fretting at the landing, swinging, veering, nodding at the
+ripples, and beckoning me to come away as soon as I had finished my
+breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Before the little Killooleets had grown accustomed to things, however,
+occurred the most delicious bit of our summer camping. It was only a
+day or two after their first appearance; they knew simply that crumbs
+and a welcome awaited them at my camp, but had not yet learned that
+the tin plate in the cedar roots was their special portion. Simmo had
+gone off at daylight, looking up beaver signs for his fall trapping. I
+had just returned from the morning fishing, and was getting breakfast,
+when I saw an otter come out into the lake from a cold brook over on
+the east shore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> Grabbing a handful of figs, and some pilot bread from
+the cracker box, I paddled away after the otter; for that is an animal
+which one has small chance to watch nowadays. Besides, I had found a
+den over near the brook, and I wanted to find out, if possible, how a
+mother otter teaches her young to swim. For, though otters live much
+in the water and love it, the young ones are afraid of it as so many
+kittens. So the mother&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But I must tell about that elsewhere. I did not find out that day; for
+the young were already good swimmers. I watched the den two or three
+hours from a good hiding place, and got several glimpses of the mother
+and the little ones. On the way back I ran into a little bay where a
+mother shelldrake was teaching her brood to dive and catch trout.
+There was also a big frog there that always sat in the same place, and
+that I used to watch. Then I thought of a trap, two miles away, which
+Simmo had set, and went to see if Nemox, the cunning fisher, who
+destroys the sable traps in winter, had been caught at his own game.
+So it was afternoon, and I was hungry, when I paddled back to camp. It
+occurred to me suddenly that Killooleet might be hungry too; for I had
+neglected to feed him. He had grown sleek and comfortable of late, and
+never went insect hunting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> when he could get cold fried trout and corn
+bread.</p>
+
+<p>I landed silently and stole up to the tent to see if he were exploring
+under the fly, as he sometimes did when I was away. A curious sound, a
+hollow <i>tunk, tunk, tunk, tunk-a-tunk</i>, grew louder as I approached. I
+stole to the big cedar, where I could see the fireplace and the little
+opening before my tent, and noticed first that I had left the cracker
+box open (it was almost empty) when I hurried away after the otter.
+The curious sound was inside, growing more eager every moment&mdash;<i>tunk,
+tunk, tunk-a-trrrrrrr-runk, tunk, tunk!</i></p>
+
+<p>I crept on my hands and knees to the box, to see what queer thing had
+found his way to the crackers, and peeped cautiously over the edge.
+There were Killooleet, and Mrs. Killooleet, and the five little
+Killooleets, just seven hopping brown backs and bobbing heads, helping
+themselves to the crackers. And the sound of their bills on the empty
+box made the jolliest tattoo that ever came out of a camping kit.</p>
+
+<p>I crept away more cautiously than I had come, and, standing carelessly
+in my tent door, whistled the call I always used in feeding the birds.
+Like a flash Killooleet appeared on the edge of the cracker box,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> looking very much surprised. "I thought you were away; why, I thought
+you were away," he seemed to be saying. Then he clucked, and the
+<i>tunk-a-tunk</i> ceased instantly. Another cluck, and Mrs. Killooleet
+appeared, looking frightened; then, one after another, the five little
+Killooleets bobbed up; and there they sat in a solemn row on the edge
+of the cracker box, turning their heads sidewise to see me better.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" said Killooleet, "didn't I tell you he wouldn't hurt you?"
+And like five winks the five little Killooleets were back in the box,
+and the <i>tunk-a-tunking</i> began again.</p>
+
+<p>This assurance that they might do as they pleased, and help themselves
+undisturbed to whatever they found, seemed to remove the last doubt
+from the mind of even the little gray mate. After that they stayed
+most of the time close about my tent, and were never so far away, or
+so busy insect hunting, that they would not come when I whistled and
+scattered crumbs. The little Killooleets grew amazingly, and no
+wonder! They were always eating, always hungry. I took good pains to
+give them less than they wanted, and so had the satisfaction of
+feeding them often, and of finding their tin plate picked clean
+whenever I came back from fishing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span></p>
+
+<p>Did the woods seem lonely to Killooleet when we paddled away at last
+and left the wilderness for another year? That is a question which I
+would give much, or watch long, to answer. There is always a regret at
+leaving a good camping ground, but I had never packed up so
+unwillingly before. Killooleet was singing, cheery as ever; but my own
+heart gave a minor chord of sadness to his trill that was not there
+when he sang on my ridgepole. Before leaving I had baked a loaf, big
+and hard, which I fastened with stakes at the foot of the old cedar,
+with a tin plate under it and a bark roof above, so that when it
+rained, and insects were hidden under the leaves, and their hunting
+was no fun because the woods were wet, Killooleet and his little ones
+would find food, and remember me. And so we paddled away and left him
+to the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>A year later my canoe touched the same old landing. For ten months I
+had been in the city, where Killooleet never sings, and where the
+wilderness is only a memory. In the fall, on some long tramps, I had
+occasional glimpses of the little singer, solitary now and silent,
+stealing southward ahead of the winter. And in the spring he showed
+himself rarely in the underbrush on country roads, eager, restless,
+chirping, hurrying northward where the streams were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> clear and the big
+woods budding. But never a song in all that time; my ears were hungry
+for his voice as I leaped out to run eagerly to the big cedar. There
+were the stakes, and the tin plate, and the bark roof all crushed by
+the snows of winter. The bread was gone; what Killooleet had spared,
+Tookhees the wood mouse had eaten thankfully. I found the old tent
+poles and put up my house leisurely, a hundred happy memories
+thronging about me. In the midst of them came a call, a clear
+whistle,&mdash;and there he was, the same full cravat, the same bright cap,
+and the same perfect song to set my nerves a-tingling: <i>I'm here,
+sweet Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!</i> And when I put crumbs by the
+old fireplace, he flew down to help himself, and went off with the
+biggest one, as of yore, to his nest by the deer path.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="III_KAGAX_THE_BLOODTHIRSTY" id="III_KAGAX_THE_BLOODTHIRSTY"></a>III. KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY.</h2>
+
+<div class="floatl">
+   <img src="images/image6.jpg"
+      height="418"
+      width="300"
+      alt="Kagax"
+      title="Kagax"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>This is the story of one day, the last one, in the life of Kagax the
+Weasel, who turns white in winter, and yellow in spring, and brown in
+summer, the better to hide his villainy.</p>
+
+<p>It was early twilight when Kagax came out of his den in the rocks,
+under the old pine that lightning had blasted. Day and night were
+meeting swiftly but warily, as they always meet in the woods. The life
+of the sunshine came stealing nestwards and denwards in the peace of a
+long day and a full stomach; the night life began to stir in its
+coverts, eager, hungry, whining. Deep in the wild raspberry thickets a
+wood thrush rang his vesper bell softly; from the mountain top a night
+hawk screamed back an answer, and came booming down to earth, where
+the insects were rising in myriads. Near the thrush a striped chipmunk
+sat chunk-a-chunking his sleepy curiosity at a burned log which a bear
+had just torn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> open for red ants; while down on the lake shore a
+cautious <i>plash-plash</i> told where a cow moose had come out of the
+alders with her calf to sup on the yellow lily roots and sip the
+freshest water. Everywhere life was stirring; everywhere cries, calls,
+squeaks, chirps, rustlings, which only the wood-dweller knows how to
+interpret, broke in upon the twilight stillness.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax grinned and showed all his wicked little teeth as the many
+voices went up from lake and stream and forest. "Mine, all mine&mdash;to
+kill," he snarled, and his eyes began to glow deep red. Then he
+stretched one sinewy paw after another, rolled over, climbed a tree,
+and jumped down from a swaying twig to get the sleep all out of him.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax had slept too much, and was mad with the world. The night
+before, he had killed from sunset to sunrise, and much tasting of
+blood had made him heavy. So he had slept all day long, only stirring
+once to kill a partridge that had drummed near his den and waked him
+out of sleep. But he was too heavy to hunt then, so he crept back
+again, leaving the bird untasted under the end of his own drumming
+log. Now Kagax was eager to make up for lost time; for all time is
+lost to Kagax that is not spent in killing. That is why he runs night
+and day, and barely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> tastes the blood of his victims, and sleeps only
+an hour or two of cat naps at a time&mdash;just long enough to gather
+energy for more evil doing.</p>
+
+<p>As he stretched himself again, a sudden barking and snickering came
+from a giant spruce on the hill just above. Meeko, the red squirrel,
+had discovered a new jay's nest, and was making a sensation over it,
+as he does over everything that he has not happened to see before. Had
+he known who was listening, he would have risked his neck in a
+headlong rush for safety; for all the wild things fear Kagax as they
+fear death. But no wild thing ever knows till too late that a weasel
+is near.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax listened a moment, a ferocious grin on his pointed face; then he
+stole towards the sound. "I intended to kill those young hares first,"
+he thought, "but this fool squirrel will stretch my legs better, and
+point my nose, and get the sleep out of me&mdash;There he is, in the big
+spruce!"</p>
+
+<p>Kagax had not seen the squirrel; but that did not matter; he can
+locate a victim better with his nose or ears than he can with his
+eyes. The moment he was sure of the place, he rushed forward without
+caution. Meeko was in the midst of a prolonged snicker at the scolding
+jays, when he heard a scratch on the bark below, turned, looked down,
+and fled with a cry of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> terror. Kagax was already halfway up the tree,
+the red fire blazing in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The squirrel rushed to the end of a branch, jumped to a smaller
+spruce, ran that up to the top; then, because his fright had made him
+forget the tree paths that ordinarily he knew very well, he sprang out
+and down to the ground, a clear fifty feet, breaking his fall by
+catching and holding for an instant a swaying fir tip on the way. Then
+he rushed pell-mell over logs and rocks, and through the underbrush to
+a maple, and from that across a dozen trees to another giant spruce,
+where he ran up and down desperately over half the branches, crossing
+and crisscrossing his trail, and dropped panting at last into a little
+crevice under a broken limb. There he crouched into the smallest
+possible space and watched, with an awful fear in his eyes, the rough
+trunk below.</p>
+
+<p>Far behind him came Kagax, grim, relentless, silent as death. He paid
+no attention to scratching claws nor swaying branches, never looking
+for the jerking red tip of Meeko's tail, nor listening for the loud
+thump of his feet when he struck the ground. A pair of brave little
+flycatchers saw the chase and rushed at the common enemy, striking him
+with their beaks, and raising an outcry that brought a score of
+frightened, clamoring birds to the scene.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> But Kagax never heeded. His
+whole being seemed to be concentrated in the point of his nose. He
+followed like a bloodhound to the top of the second spruce, sniffed
+here and there till he caught the scent of Meeko's passage through the
+air, ran to the end of a branch in the same direction and leaped to
+the ground, landing not ten feet from the spot where the squirrel had
+struck a moment before. There he picked up the trail, followed over
+logs and rocks to the maple, up to the third branch, and across fifty
+yards of intervening branches to the giant spruce where his victim sat
+half paralyzed, watching from his crevice.</p>
+
+<p>Here Kagax was more deliberate. Left and right, up and down he went
+with deadly patience, from the lowest branch to the top, a hundred
+feet above, following every cross and winding of the trail. A dozen
+times he stopped, went back, picked up the fresher trail, and went on
+again. A dozen times he passed within a few feet of his victim,
+smelling him strongly, but scorning to use his eyes till his nose had
+done its perfect work. So he came to the last turn, followed the last
+branch, his nose to the bark, straight to the crevice under the broken
+branch, where Meeko crouched shivering, knowing it was all over.</p>
+
+<p>There was a cry, that no one heeded in the woods;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> there was a flash
+of sharp teeth, and the squirrel fell, striking the ground with a
+heavy thump. Kagax ran down the trunk, sniffed an instant at the body
+without touching it, and darted away to the form among the ferns. He
+had passed it at daylight when he was too heavy for killing.</p>
+
+<p>Halfway to the lake, he stopped; a thrilling song from a dead spruce
+top bubbled out over the darkening woods. When a hermit thrush sings
+like that, his nest is somewhere just below. Kagax began twisting in
+and out like a snake among the bushes, till a stir in a tangle of
+raspberry vines, which no ears but his or an owl's would ever notice,
+made him shrink close to the ground and look up. The red fire blazed
+in his eyes again; for there was Mother Thrush just settling onto her
+nest, not five feet from his head.</p>
+
+<p>To climb the raspberry vines without shaking them, and so alarming the
+bird, was out of the question; but there was a fire-blasted tree just
+behind. Kagax climbed it stealthily on the side away from the bird,
+crept to a branch over the nest, and leaped down. Mother Thrush was
+preening herself sleepily, feeling the grateful warmth of her eggs and
+listening to the wonderful song overhead, when the blow came. Before
+she knew what it was, the sharp teeth had met<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> in her brain. The
+pretty nest would never again wait for a brooding mother in the
+twilight.</p>
+
+<p>All the while the wonderful song went on; for the hermit thrush,
+pouring his soul out, far above on the dead spruce top, heard not a
+sound of the tragedy below.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax flung the warm body aside savagely, bit through the ends of the
+three eggs, wishing they were young thrushes, and leaped to the
+ground. There he just tasted the brain of his victim to whet his
+appetite, listened a moment, crouching among the dead leaves, to the
+melody overhead, wishing it were darker, so that the hermit would come
+down and he could end his wicked work. Then he glided away to the
+young hares.</p>
+
+<p>There were five of them in the form, hidden among the coarse brakes of
+a little opening. Kagax went straight to the spot. A weasel never
+forgets. He killed them all, one after another, slowly, deliberately,
+by a single bite through the spine, tasting only the blood of the last
+one. Then he wriggled down among the warm bodies and waited, his nose
+to the path by which Mother Hare had gone away. He knew well she would
+soon be coming back.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he heard her, <i>put-a-put</i>, <i>put-a-put</i>, hopping along the
+path, with a waving line of ferns to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> show just where she was. Kagax
+wriggled lower among his helpless victims; his eyes blazed red again,
+so red that Mother Hare saw them and stopped short. Then Kagax sat up
+straight among the dead babies and screeched in her face.</p>
+
+<p>The poor creature never moved a step; she only crouched low before her
+own door and began to shiver violently. Kagax ran up to her; raised
+himself on his hind legs so as to place his fore paws on her neck;
+chose his favorite spot behind the ears, and bit. The hare
+straightened out, the quivering ceased. A tiny drop of blood followed
+the sharp teeth on either side. Kagax licked it greedily and hurried
+away, afraid to spoil his hunt by drinking.</p>
+
+<p>But he had scarcely entered the woods, running heedlessly, when the
+moss by a great stone stirred with a swift motion. There was a squeak
+of fright as Kagax jumped forward like lightning&mdash;but too late.
+Tookhees, the timid little wood mouse, who was digging under the moss
+for twin-flower roots to feed his little ones, had heard the enemy
+coming, and dove headlong into his hole, just in time to escape the
+snap of Kagax's teeth.</p>
+
+<p>That angered the fiery little weasel like poking a stick at him. To be
+caught napping, or to be heard running through the woods, is more than
+he can possibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> stand. His eyes fairly snapped as he began digging
+furiously. Below, he could hear a chorus of faint squeaks, the clamor
+of young wood mice for their supper. But a few inches down, and the
+hole doubled under a round stone, then vanished between two roots
+close together. Try as he would, Kagax could only wear his claws out,
+without making any progress. He tried to force his shoulders through;
+for a weasel thinks he can go anywhere. But the hole was too small.
+Kagax cried out in rage and took up the trail. A dozen times he ran it
+from the hole to the torn moss, where Tookhees had been digging roots,
+and back again; then, sure that all the wood mice were inside, he
+tried to tear his way between the obstinate roots. As well try to claw
+down the tree itself.</p>
+
+<p>All the while Tookhees, who always has just such a turn in his tunnel,
+and who knows perfectly when he is safe, crouched just below the
+roots, looking up with steady little eyes, like two black beads, at
+his savage pursuer, and listening in a kind of dumb terror to his
+snarls of rage.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax gave it up at last and took to running in circles. Wider and
+wider he went, running swift and silent, his nose to the ground,
+seeking other mice on whom to wreak his vengeance. Suddenly he struck
+a fresh trail and ran it straight to the clearing where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> a foolish
+field mouse had built a nest in a tangle of dry brakes. Kagax caught
+and killed the mother as she rushed out in alarm. Then he tore the
+nest open and killed all the little ones. He tasted the blood of one
+and went on again.</p>
+
+<p>The failure to catch the wood mouse still rankled in his head and kept
+his eyes bright red. Suddenly he turned from his course along the lake
+shore; he began to climb the ridge. Up and up he went, crossing a
+dozen trails that ordinarily he would have followed, till he came to
+where a dead tree had fallen and lodged against a big spruce, near the
+summit. There he crouched in the underbrush and waited.</p>
+
+<p>Up near the top of the dead tree, a pair of pine martens had made
+their den in the hollow trunk, and reared a family of young martens
+that drew Kagax's evil thoughts like a magnet. The marten belongs to
+the weasel's own family; therefore, as a choice bit of revenge, Kagax
+would rather kill him than anything else. A score of times he had
+crouched in this same place and waited for his chance. But the marten
+is larger and stronger every way than the weasel, and, though shyer,
+almost as savage in a fight. And Kagax was afraid.</p>
+
+<p>But to-night Kagax was in a more vicious mood than ever before; and a
+weasel's temper is always the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> most vicious thing in the woods. He
+stole forward at last and put his nose to the foot of the leaning
+tree. Two fresh trails went out; none came back. Kagax followed them
+far enough to be sure that both martens were away hunting; then he
+turned and ran like a flash up the incline and into the den.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment he came out, licking his chops greedily. Inside, the young
+martens lay just as they had been left by the mother; only they began
+to grow very cold. Kagax ran to the great spruce, along a branch into
+another tree; then to the ground by a dizzy jump. There he ran swiftly
+for a good half hour in a long diagonal down towards the lake,
+crisscrossing his trail here and there as he ran.</p>
+
+<p>Once more his night's hunting began, with greater zeal than before. He
+was hungry now; his nose grew keen as a brier for every trail. A faint
+smell stopped him, so faint that the keenest-nosed dog or fox would
+have passed without turning, the smell of a brooding partridge on her
+eggs. There she was, among the roots of a pine, sitting close and
+blending perfectly with the roots and the brown needles. Kagax moved
+like a shadow; his nose found the bird; before she could spring he was
+on her back, and his teeth had done their evil work. Once more he
+tasted the fresh brains with keen relish. He broke all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> eggs, so
+that none else might profit by his hunting, and went on again.</p>
+
+<p>On some moist ground, under a hemlock, he came upon the fresh trail of
+a wandering hare&mdash;no simple, unsuspecting mother, coming back to her
+babies, but a big, strong, suspicious fellow, who knew how to make a
+run for his life. Kagax was still fresh and eager; here was game that
+would stretch his muscles. The red lust of killing flamed into his
+eyes as he jumped away on the trail.</p>
+
+<p>Soon, by the long distances between tracks, he knew that the hare was
+startled. The scent was fresher now, so fresh that he could follow it
+in the air, without putting his nose to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a great commotion sounded among the bushes just ahead, where
+a moment before all was still. The hare had been lying there, watching
+his back track to see what was following. When he saw the red eyes of
+Kagax, he darted away wildly. A few hundred yards, and the foolish
+hare, who could run far faster than his pursuer, dropped in the bushes
+again to watch and see if the weasel was still after him.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax was following, swiftly, silently. Again the hare bounded away,
+only to stop and scare himself into fits by watching his own trail
+till the red eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> of the weasel blazed into view. So it went on for a
+half hour, through brush and brake and swamp, till the hare had lost
+all his wits and began to run wildly in small circles. Then Kagax
+turned, ran the back track a little way, and crouched flat on the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment the hare came tearing along on his own trail&mdash;straight
+towards the yellow-brown ball under a fern tip. Kagax waited till he
+was almost run over; then he sprang up and screeched. That ended the
+chase. The hare just dropped on his fore paws. Kagax jumped for his
+head; his teeth met; the hunger began to gnaw, and he drank his fill
+greedily.</p>
+
+<p>For a time the madness of the chase seemed to be in the blood he
+drank. Keener than ever to kill, he darted away on a fresh trail. But
+soon his feast began to tell; his feet grew heavy. Angry at himself,
+he lay down to sleep their weight away.</p>
+
+<p>Far behind him, under the pine by the partridge's nest, a long dark
+shadow seemed to glide over the ground. A pointed nose touched the
+leaves here and there; over, the nose a pair of fierce little eyes
+glowed deep red as Kagax's own. So the shadow came to the partridge's
+nest, passed over it, minding not the scent of broken eggs nor of the
+dead bird, but only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> the scent of the weasel, and vanished into the
+underbrush on the trail.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax woke with a start and ran on. A big bullfrog croaked down on the
+shore. Kagax stalked and killed him, leaving his carcass untouched
+among the lily pads. A dead pine in a thicket attracted his suspicion.
+He climbed it swiftly, found a fresh round hole, and tumbled in upon a
+mother bird and a family of young woodpeckers. He killed them all,
+tasting the brains again, and hunted the tree over for the father
+bird, the great black logcock that makes the wilderness ring with his
+tattoo. But the logcock heard claws on the bark and flew to another
+tree, making a great commotion in the darkness as he blundered along,
+but not knowing what it was that had startled him.</p>
+
+<p>So the night wore on, with Kagax killing in every thicket, yet never
+satisfied with killing. He thought longingly of the hard winter, when
+game was scarce, and he had made his way out over the snow to the
+settlement, and lived among the chicken coops. "Twenty big hens in one
+roost&mdash;that was killing," snarled Kagax savagely, as he strangled two
+young herons in their nest, while the mother bird went on with her
+frogging, not ten yards away among the lily pads, and never heard a
+rustle.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span></p>
+
+<p>Toward morning he turned homeward, making his way back in a circle
+along the top of the ridge where his den was, and killing as he went.
+He had tasted too much; his feet grew heavier than they had ever been
+before. He thought angrily that he would have to sleep another whole
+day. And to sleep a whole day, while the wilderness was just beginning
+to swarm with life, filled Kagax with snarling rage.</p>
+
+<p>A mother hare darted away from her form as the weasel's wicked eyes
+looked in upon her. Kagax killed the little ones and had started after
+the mother, when a shiver passed over him and he turned back to
+listen. He had been moving more slowly of late; several times he had
+looked behind him with the feeling that he was followed. He stole back
+to the hare's form and lay hidden, watching his back track. He
+shivered again. "If it were not stronger than I, it would not follow
+my trail," thought Kagax. The fear of a hunted thing came upon him. He
+remembered the marten's den, the strangled young ones, the two trails
+that left the leaning tree. "They must have turned back long ago,"
+thought Kagax, and darted away. His back was cold now, cold as ice.</p>
+
+<p>But his feet grew very heavy ere he reached his den. A faint light
+began to show over the mountain across the lake. Killooleet, the
+white-throated sparrow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> saw it, and his clear morning song tinkled
+out of the dark underbrush. Kagax's eyes glowed red again; he stole
+toward the sound for a last kill. Young sparrows' brains are a dainty
+dish; he would eat his fill, since he must sleep all day. He found the
+nest; he had placed his fore paws against the tree that held it, when
+he dropped suddenly; the shivers began to course all over him. Just
+below, from a stub in a dark thicket, a deep <i>Whooo-hoo-hoo!</i> rolled
+out over the startled woods.</p>
+
+<p>It was Kookooskoos, the great horned owl, who generally hunts only in
+the evening twilight, but who, with growing young ones to feed,
+sometimes uses the morning twilight as well. Kagax lay still as a
+stone. Over him the sparrows, knowing the danger, crouched low in
+their nest, not daring to move a claw lest the owl should hear.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him the same shadow that had passed over the partridge's nest
+looked into the hare's form with fierce red eyes. It followed Kagax's
+trail over that of the mother hare, turned back, sniffed the earth,
+and came hurrying silently along the ridge.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+     <img src="images/image16.jpg"
+        width="354" height="500"
+        alt="Kookooskoos"
+        title="Kookooskoos" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Kagax crept stealthily out of the thicket. He had an awful fear now of
+his feet; for, heavy with the blood he had eaten, they would rustle
+the leaves, or scratch on the stones, that all night long they had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> glided over in silence. He was near his den now. He could see the old
+pine that lightning had blasted, towering against the sky over the
+dark spruces.</p>
+
+<p>Again the deep <i>Whooo-hoo-hoo</i>! rolled over the hillside. To Kagax,
+who gloats over his killing except when he is afraid, it became an
+awful accusation. "Who has killed where he cannot eat? who strangled a
+brooding bird? who murdered his own kin?" came thundering through the
+woods. Kagax darted for his den. His hind feet struck a rotten twig
+that they should have cleared; it broke with a sharp snap. In an
+instant a huge shadow swept down from the stub and hovered over the
+sound. Two fierce yellow eyes looked in upon Kagax, crouching and
+trying to hide under a fir tip.</p>
+
+<p>Kagax whirled when the eyes found him and two sets of strong curved
+claws dropped down from the shadow. With a savage snarl he sprang up,
+and his teeth met; but no blood followed the bite, only a flutter of
+soft brown feathers. Then one set of sharp claws gripped his head;
+another set met deep in his back. Kagax was jerked swiftly into the
+air, and his evil doing was ended forever.</p>
+
+<p>There was a faint rustle in the thicket as the shadow of Kookooskoos
+swept away to his nest. The long lithe form of a pine marten glided
+straight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> to the fir tip, where Kagax had been a moment before. His
+movements were quick, nervous, silent; his eyes showed like two drops
+of blood over his twitching nostrils. He circled swiftly about the end
+of the lost trail. His nose touched a brown feather, another, and he
+glided back to the fir tip. A drop of blood was soaking slowly into a
+dead leaf. The marten thrust his nose into it. One long sniff, while
+his eyes blazed; then he raised his head, cried out once savagely, and
+glided away on the back track.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="IV_KOOKOOSKOOS_WHO_CATCHES_THE_WRONG_RAT" id="IV_KOOKOOSKOOS_WHO_CATCHES_THE_WRONG_RAT"></a>IV. KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT.</h2>
+
+<div class="floatl">
+   <img src="images/image7.jpg"
+      height="650"
+      width="300"
+      alt="Kookooskoos"
+      title="Kookooskoos"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>Kookooskoos is the big brown owl, the <i>Bubo Virginianus</i>, or Great
+Horned Owl of the books. But his Indian name is best. Almost any night
+in autumn, if you leave the town and go out towards the big woods, you
+can hear him calling it, <i>Koo-koo-skoos, koooo, kooo</i>, down in the
+swamp.</p>
+
+<p>Kookooskoos is always catching the wrong rat. The reason is that he is
+a great hunter, and thinks that every furry thing which moves must be
+game; and so he is like the fool sportsman who shoots at a sound, or a
+motion in the bushes, before finding out what makes it. Sometimes the
+rat turns out to be a skunk, or a weasel; sometimes your pet cat; and,
+once in a lifetime, it is your own fur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> cap, or even your head; and
+then you feel the weight and the edge of Kookooskoos' claws. But he
+never learns wisdom by mistakes; for, spite of his grave appearance,
+he is excitable as a Frenchman; and so, whenever anything stirs in the
+bushes and a bit of fur appears, he cries out to himself, <i>A rat,
+Kookoo! a rabbit!</i> and swoops on the instant.</p>
+
+<p>Rats and rabbits are his favorite food, by the way, and he never lets
+a chance go by of taking them into camp. I think I never climbed to
+his nest without finding plenty of the fur of both animals to tell of
+his skill in hunting.</p>
+
+<p>One evening in the twilight, as I came home from hunting in the big
+woods, I heard the sound of deer feeding just ahead. I stole forward
+to the edge of a thicket and stood there motionless, looking and
+listening intently. My cap was in my pocket, and only my head appeared
+above the low firs that sheltered me. Suddenly, without noise or
+warning of any kind, I received a sharp blow on the head from behind,
+as if some one had struck me with a thorny stick. I turned quickly,
+surprised and a good bit startled; for I thought myself utterly alone
+in the woods&mdash;and I was. There was nobody there. Not a sound, not a
+motion broke the twilight stillness. Something trickled on my neck; I
+put up my hand, to find my hair already <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> wet with blood. More startled
+than ever, I sprang through the thicket, looking, listening everywhere
+for sight or sound of my enemy. Still no creature bigger than a wood
+mouse; no movement save that of nodding fir tips; no sound but the
+thumping of my own heart, and, far behind me, a sudden rush and a bump
+or two as the frightened deer broke away; then perfect stillness
+again, as if nothing had ever lived in the thickets.</p>
+
+<p>I was little more than a boy; and I went home that night more puzzled
+and more frightened than I have ever been, before or since, in the
+woods. I ran into the doctor's office on my way. He found three cuts
+in my scalp, and below them two shorter ones, where pointed things
+seemed to have been driven through to the bone. He looked at me
+queerly when I told my story. Of course he did not believe me, and I
+made no effort to persuade him. Indeed, I scarcely believed myself.
+But for the blood which stained my handkerchief, and the throbbing
+pain in my head, I should have doubted the reality of the whole
+experience.</p>
+
+<p>That night I started up out of sleep, some time towards morning, and
+said before I was half awake: "It was an <i>owl</i> that hit you on the
+head&mdash;of course it was an owl!" Then I remembered that, years <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> before,
+an older boy had a horned owl, which he had taken from a nest, and
+which he kept loose in a dark garret over the shed. None of us younger
+boys dared go up to the garret, for the owl was always hungry, and the
+moment a boy's head appeared through the scuttle the owl said <i>Hoooo!</i>
+and swooped for it. So we used to get acquainted with the big pet by
+pushing in a dead rat, or a squirrel, or a chicken, on the end of a
+stick, and climbing in ourselves afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>As I write, the whole picture comes back to me again vividly; the
+dark, cobwebby old garret, pierced here and there by a pencil of
+light, in which the motes were dancing; the fierce bird down on the
+floor in the darkest corner, horns up, eyes gleaming, feathers all
+a-bristle till he looked big as a bushel basket in the dim light,
+standing on his game with one foot and tearing it savagely to pieces
+with the other, snapping his beak and gobbling up feathers, bones and
+all, in great hungry mouthfuls; and, over the scuttle, two or three
+small boys staring in eager curiosity, but clinging to each other's
+coats fearfully, ready to tumble down the ladder with a yell at the
+first hostile demonstration.</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon I was back in the big woods to investigate. Fifty
+feet behind the thicket where I had been struck was a tall dead stub
+overlooking a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> little clearing. "That's his watch tower," I thought.
+"While I was watching the deer, he was up there watching my head, and
+when it moved he swooped."</p>
+
+<p>I had no intention of giving him another flight at the same game, but
+hid my fur cap some distance out in the clearing, tied a long string
+to it, went back into the thicket with the other end of the string,
+and sat down to wait. A low <i>Whooo-hoo-hoo!</i> came from across the
+valley to tell me I was not the only watcher in the woods.</p>
+
+<p>Towards dusk I noticed suddenly that the top of the old stub looked a
+bit peculiar, but it was some time before I made out a big owl sitting
+up there. I had no idea how long he had been there, nor whence he
+came. His back was towards me; he sat up very straight and still, so
+as to make himself just a piece, the tip end, of the stub. As I
+watched, he hooted once and bent forward to listen. Then I pulled on
+my string.</p>
+
+<p>With the first rustle of a leaf he whirled and poised forward, in the
+intense attitude an eagle takes when he sights the prey. On the
+instant he had sighted the cap, wriggling in and out among the low
+bushes, and swooped for it like an arrow. Just as he dropped his legs
+to strike, I gave a sharp pull, and the cap jumped from under him. He
+missed his strike, but wheeled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> like a fury and struck again. Another
+jerk, and again he missed. Then he was at the thicket where I stood;
+his fierce yellow eyes glared straight into mine for a startled
+instant, and he brushed me with his wings as he sailed away into the
+shadow of the spruces.</p>
+
+<p>Small doubt now that I had seen my assailant of the night before; for
+an owl has regular hunting grounds, and uses the same watch towers
+night after night. He had seen my head in the thicket, and struck at
+the first movement. Perceiving his mistake, he kept straight on over
+my head; so of course there was nothing in sight when I turned. As an
+owl's flight is perfectly noiseless (the wing feathers are wonderfully
+soft, and all the lamin&aelig; are drawn out into hair points, so that the
+wings never whirr nor rustle like other birds') I had heard nothing,
+though he passed close enough to strike, and I was listening intently.
+And so another mystery of the woods was made plain by a little
+watching.</p>
+
+<p>Years afterwards, the knowledge gained stood me in good stead in
+clearing up another mystery. It was in a lumber camp&mdash;always a
+superstitious place&mdash;in the heart of a Canada forest. I had followed a
+wandering herd of caribou too far one day, and late in the afternoon
+found myself alone at a river, some twenty miles from my camp, on the
+edge of the barren grounds.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> Somewhere above me I knew that a crew of
+lumbermen were at work; so I headed up river to find their camp, if
+possible, and avoid sleeping out in the snow and bitter cold. It was
+long after dark, and the moon was flooding forest and river with a
+wonderful light, when I at last caught sight of the camp. The click of
+my snowshoes brought a dozen big men to the door. At that moment I
+felt rather than saw that they seemed troubled and alarmed at seeing
+me alone; but I was too tired to notice, and no words save those of
+welcome were spoken until I had eaten heartily. Then, as I started out
+for another look at the wild beauty of the place under the moonlight,
+a lumberman followed and touched me on the shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Best not go far from camp alone, sir. 'T isn't above safe
+hereabouts," he said in a low voice. I noticed that he glanced back
+over his shoulder as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" I objected. "There's nothing in these woods to be afraid
+of."</p>
+
+<p>"Come back to camp and I'll tell you. It's warmer there," he said. And
+I followed to hear a strange story,&mdash;how "Andy there" was sitting on a
+stump, smoking his pipe in the twilight, when he was struck and cut on
+the head from behind; and when he sprang up to look, there was nothing
+there, nor any track save <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> his own in the snow. The next night
+Gillie's fur cap had been snatched from his head, and when <i>he</i> turned
+there was nobody in sight; and when he burst into camp, with all his
+wits frightened out of him, he could scarcely speak, and his face was
+deathly white. Other uncanny things had happened since, in the same
+way, and coupled with a bad accident on the river, which the men
+thought was an omen, they had put the camp into such a state of
+superstitious fear that no one ventured alone out of doors after
+nightfall.</p>
+
+<p>I thought of Kookooskoos and my own head, but said nothing. They would
+only have resented the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>Next day I found my caribou, and returned to the lumber camp before
+sunset. At twilight there was Kookooskoos, an enormous fellow, looking
+like the end of a big spruce stub, keeping sharp watch over the
+clearing, and fortunately behind the camp where he could not see the
+door. I called the men and set them crouching in the snow under the
+low eaves.&mdash;"Stay there a minute and I'll show you the ghost." That
+was all I told them.</p>
+
+<p>Taking the skin of a hare which I had shot that day, I hoisted it
+cautiously on a stick, the lumbermen watching curiously. A slight
+scratch of the stick, a movement of the fur along the splits, then a
+great <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> dark shadow shot over our heads. It struck the stick sharply
+and swept on and up into the spruces across the clearing, taking
+Bunny's skin with it.</p>
+
+<p>Then one big lumberman, who saw the point, jumped up with a yell and
+danced a jig in the snow, like a schoolboy. There was no need of
+further demonstration with a cap; and nobody volunteered his head for
+a final experiment; but all remembered seeing the owl on his nightly
+watch, and knew something of his swooping habits. Of course some were
+incredulous at first, and had a dozen questions and objections when we
+were in camp. No one likes to have a good ghost story spoiled; and,
+besides, where superstition is, there the marvelous is most easily
+believed. It is only the simple truth that is doubted. So I spent half
+the night in convincing them that they <i>had</i> been brought up in the
+woods to be scared by an owl.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Kookooskoos! they shot him next night on his watch tower, and
+nailed him to the camp door as a warning.</p>
+
+<p>I discovered another curious thing about Kookooskoos that night when I
+watched to find out what had struck me. I found out why he hoots.
+Sometimes, if he is a young owl, he hoots for practice, or to learn
+how; and then he makes an awful noise of it, a rasping screech, before
+his voice deepens. And if you are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> camping near and are new to the
+woods, the chances are that you lie awake and shiver; for there is no
+other sound like it in the wilderness. Sometimes, when you climb to
+his nest, he has a terrifying <i>hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo</i>, running up
+and down a deep guttural scale, like a fiendish laugh, accompanied by
+a vicious snapping of the beak. And if you are a small boy, and it is
+towards twilight, you climb down the tree quick and let his nest
+alone. But the regular <i>whooo-hoo-hoo</i>, <i>whooo-hoo</i>, always five
+notes, with the second two very short, is a hunting call, and he uses
+it to alarm the game. That is queer hunting; but his ears account for
+it.</p>
+
+<p>If you separate the feathers on Kookooskoos' head, you will find an
+enormous ear-opening running from above his eye halfway round his
+face. And the ear within is so marvelously sensitive that it can hear
+the rustle of a rat in the grass, or the scrape of a sparrow's toes on
+a branch fifty feet away. So he sits on his watch tower, so still that
+he is never noticed, and as twilight comes on, when he can see best,
+he hoots suddenly and listens. The sound has a muffled quality which
+makes it hard to locate, and it frightens every bird and small animal
+within hearing; for all know Kookooskoos, and how fierce he is. As the
+terrifying sound rolls out of the air so near them, fur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> and feathers
+shiver with fright. A rabbit stirs in his form; a partridge shakes on
+his branch; the mink stops hunting frogs at the brook; the skunk takes
+his nose out of the hole where he is eating sarsaparilla roots. A leaf
+stirs, a toe scrapes, and instantly Kookooskoos is there. His fierce
+eyes glare in; his great claws drop; one grip, and it's all over. For
+the very sight of him scares the little creatures so, that there is no
+life left in them to cry out or to run away.</p>
+
+<p>A nest which I found a few years ago shows how well this kind of
+hunting succeeds. It was in a gloomy evergreen swamp, in a big tree,
+some eighty feet from the ground. I found it by a pile of pellets of
+hair and feathers at the foot of the tree; for the owl devours every
+part of his game, and after digestion is complete, feathers, bones,
+and hair are disgorged in small balls, like so many sparrow heads.
+When I looked up, there at the top was a huge mass of sticks, which
+had been added to year after year till it was nearly three feet
+across, and half as thick. Kookooskoos was not there. He had heard me
+coming and slipped away silently.</p>
+
+<p>Wishing to be sure the nest was occupied before trying the hard climb,
+I went away as far as I could see the nest and hid in a thicket.
+Presently a very large owl came back and stood by the nest. Soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> after, a smaller bird, the male, glided up beside her. Then I came on
+cautiously, watching to see what they would do.</p>
+
+<p>At the first crack of a twig both birds started forward the male
+slipped away; the female dropped below the nest, and stood behind a
+limb, just her face peering through a crotch in my direction. Had I
+not known she was there, I might have looked the tree over twenty
+times without finding her. And there she stayed hidden till I was
+halfway up the tree.</p>
+
+<p>When I peered at last over the edge of the big nest, after a
+desperately hard climb, there was a bundle of dark gray down in a
+little hollow in the middle. It touched me at the time that the little
+ones rested on a feather bed pulled from the mother bird's own breast.
+I brushed the down with my fingers. Instantly two heads came up, fuzzy
+gray heads, with black pointed beaks, and beautiful hazel eyes, and a
+funny long pin-feather over each ear, which made them look like little
+wise old clerks just waked up. When I touched them again they
+staggered up and opened their mouths,&mdash;enormous mouths for such little
+fellows; then, seeing that I was an intruder, they tried to bristle
+their few pin-feathers and snap their beaks.</p>
+
+<p>They were fat as two aldermen; and no wonder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> Placed around the edge
+of the big nest were a red squirrel, a rat, a chicken, a few frogs'
+legs, and a rabbit. Fine fare that, at eighty feet from the ground.
+Kookooskoos had had good hunting. All the game was partly eaten,
+showing I had disturbed their dinner; and only the hinder parts were
+left, showing that owls like the head and brains best. I left them
+undisturbed and came away; for I wanted to watch the young grow&mdash;which
+they did marvelously, and were presently learning to hoot. But I have
+been less merciful to the great owls ever since, thinking of the
+enormous destruction of game represented in raising two or three such
+young savages, year after year, in the same swamp.</p>
+
+<p>Once, at twilight, I shot a big owl that was sitting on a limb facing
+me, with what appeared to be an enormously long tail hanging below the
+limb. The tail turned out to be a large mink, just killed, with a
+beautiful skin that put five dollars into a boy's locker. Another time
+I shot one that sailed over me; when he came down, there was a ruffed
+grouse, still living, in his claws. Another time I could not touch one
+that I had killed for the overpowering odor which was in his feathers,
+showing that <i>Mephitis</i>, the skunk, never loses his head when
+attacked. But Kookooskoos, like the fox, cares little for such
+weapons, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> in the spring, when game is scarce, swoops for and kills
+a skunk wherever he finds him prowling away from his den in the
+twilight.</p>
+
+<p>The most savage bit of his hunting that I ever saw was one dark winter
+afternoon, on the edge of some thick woods. I was watching a cat, a
+half-wild creature, that was watching a red squirrel making a great
+fuss over some nuts which he had hidden, and which he claimed somebody
+had stolen. Somewhere behind us, Kookooskoos was watching from a pine
+tree. The squirrel was chattering in the midst of a whirlwind of
+leaves and empty shells which he had thrown out on the snow from under
+the wall; behind him the cat, creeping nearer and nearer, had crouched
+with blazing eyes and quivering muscles, her whole attention fixed on
+the spring, when broad wings shot silently over my hiding place and
+fell like a shadow on the cat. One set of strong claws gripped her
+behind the ears; the others were fastened like a vise in the spine.
+Generally one such grip is enough; but the cat was strong, and at the
+first touch sprang away. In a moment the owl was after her, floating,
+hovering above, till the right moment came, when he dropped and struck
+again. Then the cat whirled and fought like a fury. For a few moments
+there was a desperate battle, fur and feathers flying, the cat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> screeching like mad, the owl silent as death. Then the great claws did
+their work. When I straightened up from my thicket, Kookooskoos was
+standing on his game, tearing off the flesh with his feet, and
+carrying it up to his mouth with the same movement, swallowing
+everything alike, as if famished.</p>
+
+<p>Over them the squirrel, which had whisked up a tree at the first
+alarm, was peeking with evil eyes over the edge of a limb, snickering
+at the blood-stained snow and the dead cat, scolding, barking,
+threatening the owl for having disturbed the search for his stolen
+walnuts.</p>
+
+<p>I caught that same owl soon after in a peculiar way. A farmer near by
+told me that an owl was taking his chickens regularly. Undoubtedly the
+bird had been driven southward by the severe winter, and had not taken
+up regular hunting grounds until he caught the cat. Then came the
+chickens. I set up a pole, on the top of which was nailed a bit of
+board for a platform. On the platform was fastened a small steel trap,
+and under it hung a dead chicken. The next morning there was
+Kookooskoos on the platform, one foot in the trap, at which he was
+pulling awkwardly. Owls, from their peculiar ways of hunting, are
+prone to light on stubs and exposed branches; and so Kookooskoos had
+used my pole as a watch tower before carrying off his game.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span></p>
+
+<p>There is another way in which he is easily fooled. In the early
+spring, when he is mating, and again in the autumn, when the young
+birds are well fed and before they have learned much, you can bring
+him close up to you by imitating his hunting call. In the wilderness,
+where these birds are plenty, I have often had five or six about me at
+once. You have only to go well out beyond your tent, and sit down
+quietly, making yourself part of the place. Give the call a few times,
+and if there is a young bird near with a full stomach, he will answer,
+and presently come nearer. Soon he is in the tree over your head, and
+if you keep perfectly still he will set up a great hooting that you
+have called him and now do not answer. Others are attracted by his
+calling; they come in silently from all directions; the outcry is
+startling. The call is more nervous, more eerie, much more terrifying
+close at hand than when heard in the distance. They sweep about like
+great dark shadows, hoo-hoo-hooing and frolicking in their own uncanny
+way; then go off to their separate watch towers and their hunting. But
+the chances are that you will be awakened with a start more than once
+in the night, as some inquisitive young owl comes back and gives the
+hunting call in the hope of finding out what the first summons was all
+about.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="V_CHIGWOOLTZ_THE_FROG" id="V_CHIGWOOLTZ_THE_FROG"></a>V. CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG.</h2>
+
+<div class="floatl">
+   <img src="images/image8.jpg"
+      height="529"
+      width="300"
+      alt="Chigwooltz"
+      title="Chigwooltz"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>I was watching for a bear one day by an alder point, when Chigwooltz
+came swimming in from the lily pads in great curiosity to see what I
+was doing under the alders. He was an enormous frog, dull green with a
+yellowish vest&mdash;which showed that he was a male&mdash;but with the most
+brilliant ear drums I had ever seen. They fairly glowed with
+iridescent color, each in its ring of bright yellow. When I tried to
+catch him (very quietly, for the bear was somewhere just above on the
+ridge) in order to examine these drums, he dived under the canoe and
+watched me from a distance.</p>
+
+<p>In front of me, in the shallow water along shore, four more large
+frogs were sunning themselves among the lily pads. I watched them
+carelessly while waiting for the bear. After an hour or two I noticed
+that three of these frogs changed their positions <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> slightly, turning
+from time to time so as to warm the entire body at nature's fireplace.
+But the fourth was more deliberate and philosophical, thinking
+evidently that if he simply sat still long enough the sun would do the
+turning. When I came, about eleven o'clock, he was sitting on the
+shore by a green stone, his fore feet lapped by tiny ripples, the sun
+full on his back. For three hours, while I watched there, he never
+moved a muscle. Then the bear came, and I left him for more exciting
+things.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon I came back to get some of the big frogs for
+breakfast. Chigwooltz, he with the ear drums, was the first to see me,
+and came pushing his way among the lily pads toward the canoe. But
+when I dangled a red ibis fly in front of him, he dived promptly, and
+I saw his head come up by a black root, where he sat, thinking himself
+invisible, and watched me.</p>
+
+<p>Chigwooltz the second, he of the green stone and the patient
+disposition, was still sitting in the same place. The sun had turned
+round; it was now warming his other side. His all-day sun bath
+surprised me so that I let him alone, to see how long he would sit
+still, and went fishing for other frogs.</p>
+
+<p>Two big ones showed their heads among the pads some twenty feet apart.
+Pushing up so as to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> a triangle with my canoe, I dangled a red
+ibis impartially between them. For two or three long minutes neither
+moved so much as an eyelid. Then one seemed to wake suddenly from a
+trance, or to be touched by an electric wire, for he came scrambling
+in a desperate hurry over the lily pads. Swimming was too slow; he
+jumped fiercely out of water at the red challenge, making a great
+splash and commotion.</p>
+
+<p>Fishing for big frogs, by the way, is no tame sport. The red seems to
+excite them tremendously, and they take the fly like a black salmon.</p>
+
+<p>But the moment the first frog started, frog number two waked up and
+darted forward, making less noise but coming more swiftly. The first
+frog had jumped once for the fly and missed it, when the other leaped
+upon him savagely, and a fight began, while the ibis lay neglected on
+a lily pad. They pawed and bit each other fiercely for several
+minutes; then the second frog, a little smaller than the other, got
+the grip he wanted and held it. He clasped his fore legs tight about
+his rival's neck and began to strangle him slowly. I knew well how
+strong Chigwooltz is in his forearms, and that his fightings and
+wrestlings are desperate affairs; but I did not know till then how
+savage he can be. He had gripped from behind by a clever dive, so as
+to use his weight when the right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> moment came. Tighter and tighter he
+hugged; the big frog's eyes seemed bursting from his head, and his
+mouth was forced slowly open. Then his savage opponent lunged upon him
+with his weight, and forced his head under water to finish him.</p>
+
+<p>The whole thing seemed scarcely more startling to the luckless big
+frog than to the watcher in the canoe. It was all so brutal, so
+deliberately planned! The smaller frog, knowing that he was no match
+for the other in strength, had waited cunningly till he was all
+absorbed in the red fly, and then stole upon him, intending to finish
+him first and the little red thing afterwards. He would have done it
+too; for the big frog was at his last gasp, when I interfered and put
+them both in my net.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile a third frog had come <i>walloping</i> over the lily pads from
+somewhere out of sight, and grabbed the fly while the other two were
+fighting about it. It was he who first showed me a curious frog trick.
+When I lifted him from the water on the end of my line, he raised his
+hands above his head, as if he had been a man, and grasped the line,
+and tried to lift himself, hand over hand, so as to take the strain
+from his mouth.&mdash;And I could never catch another frog like that.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, as I went to the early fishing, Chigwooltz,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> the
+patient, sat by the same stone, his fore feet at the edge of the same
+bronze lily leaf. At noon he was still there; in twenty-four hours at
+least he had not moved a muscle.</p>
+
+<p>At twilight I was following a bear along the shore. It was the
+restless season, when bears are moving constantly; scarcely a twilight
+passed that I did not meet one or more on their wanderings. This one
+was heading for the upper end of the lake, traveling in the shallow
+water near shore; and I was just behind him, stealing along in my
+canoe to see what queer thing he would do. He was in no hurry, as most
+other bears were, but went nosing along shore, acting much as a fat
+pig would in the same place. As he approached the alder point he
+stopped suddenly, and twisted his head a bit, and set his ears, as a
+dog does that sees something very interesting. Then he began to steal
+forward. Could it be&mdash;I shot my canoe forward&mdash;yes, it was Chigwooltz,
+still sitting by the green stone, with his eye, like Bunsby's, on the
+coast of Greenland. In thirty-two hours, to my knowledge, he had not
+stirred.</p>
+
+<p>Mooween the bear crept nearer; he was crouching now like a cat,
+stealing along in the soft mud behind Chigwooltz so as to surprise
+him. I saw him raise one paw slowly, cautiously, high above his head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> Down it came, <i>souse</i>! sending up a shower of mud and water. And
+Chigwooltz the restful, who could sit still thirty-two hours without
+getting stiff in the joints, and then dodge the sweep of Mooween's
+paw, went splashing away <i>hippety-ippety</i> over the lily pads to some
+water grass, where he said <i>K'tung!</i> and disappeared for good.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later Simmo and I moved camp to a grove of birches just
+above the alder point. From behind my tent an old game path led down
+to the bay where the big frogs lived. There were scores of them there;
+the chorus at night, with its multitude of voices running from a
+whistling treble to deep, deep bass, was at times tremendous. It was
+here that I had the first good opportunity of watching frogs feeding.</p>
+
+<p>Chigwooltz, I found, is a perfect gourmand and a cannibal, eating,
+besides his regular diet of flies and beetles and water snails, young
+frogs, and crawfish, and turtles, and fish of every kind. But few have
+ever seen him at his hunting, for he is active only at night or on
+dark days.</p>
+
+<p>I used to watch them from the shore or from my canoe at twilight. Just
+outside the lily pads a shoal of minnows would be playing at the
+surface, or small trout would be rising freely for the night insects.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> Then, if you watched sharply, you would see gleaming points of light,
+the eyes of Chigwooltz, stealing out, with barely a ripple, to the
+edge of the pads. And then, when some big feeding trout drove the
+minnows or small fry close in, there would be a heavy plunge from the
+shadow of the pads; and you would hear Chigwooltz splashing if the
+fish were a larger one than he expected.</p>
+
+<p>That is why small frogs are so deadly afraid if you take them outside
+the fringe of lily pads. They know that big hungry trout feed in from
+the deeps, and that big frogs, savage cannibals every one, watch out
+from the shadowy fringe of water plants. If you drop a little frog
+there, in clear water, he will shoot in as fast as his frightened legs
+will drive him, swimming first on top to avoid fish, diving deep as he
+reaches the pads to avoid his hungry relatives; and so in to shallow
+water and thick stems, where he can dodge about and the big frogs
+cannot follow.</p>
+
+<p>All sorts and conditions of frogs lived in that little bay. There was
+one inquisitive fellow, who always came out of the pads and swam as
+near as he could get whenever I appeared on the shore. Another would
+sit in his favorite spot, under a stranded log, and let me come as
+close as I would; but the moment I dangled the red ibis fly in front
+of him, he would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> disappear like a wink, and not show himself again.
+Another would follow the fly in a wild kangaroo dance over the lily
+pads, going round and round the canoe as if bewitched, and would do
+his best to climb in after the bit of color when I pulled it up slowly
+over the bark. He afforded me so much good fun that I could not eat
+him; though I always stopped to give him another dance, whenever I
+went fishing for other frogs just like him. Further along shore lived
+another, a perfect savage, so wild that I could never catch him, which
+strangled or drowned two big frogs in a week, to my certain knowledge.
+And then, one night when I was trying to find my canoe which I had
+lost in the darkness, I came upon a frog migration, dozens and dozens
+of them, all hopping briskly in the same direction. They had left the
+stream, driven by some strange instinct, just like rats or squirrels,
+and were going through the woods to the unknown destination that
+beckoned them so strongly that they could not but follow.</p>
+
+<p>The most curious and interesting bit of their strange life came out at
+night, when they were fascinated by my light. I used sometimes to set
+a candle on a piece of board for a float, and place it in the water
+close to shore, where the ripples would set it dancing gently. Then I
+would place a little screen <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> of bark at the shore end of the float,
+and sit down behind it in darkness.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+   <a href="images/image9h.jpg" >
+     <img src="images/image9.jpg"
+        width="400" height="558"
+        alt="Chigwooltz"
+        title="Chigwooltz" />
+   </a>
+</div>
+
+<p>Presently two points of light would begin to shine, then to
+scintillate, out among the lily pads, and Chigwooltz would come
+stealing in, his eyes growing bigger and brighter with wonder. He
+would place his forearms akimbo on the edge of the float, and lift
+himself up a bit, like a little old man, and stare steadfastly at the
+light. And there he would stay as long as I let him, just staring and
+blinking.</p>
+
+<p>Soon two other points of light would come stealing in from the other
+side, and another frog would set his elbows on the float and stare
+hard across at the first-comer. And then two more shining points, and
+two more, till twelve or fifteen frogs were gathered about my beacon,
+as thick as they could find elbow room on the float, all staring and
+blinking like so many strange water owls come up from the bottom to
+debate weighty things, with a little flickering will-o'-the-wisp
+nodding grave assent in the midst of them. But never a word was
+spoken; the silence was perfect.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes one, more fascinated or more curious than the others, would
+climb onto the float, and put his nose solemnly into the light. Then
+there would be a loud sizzle, a jump, and a splash; the candle would
+go out, and the wondering circle of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> frogs scatter to the lily pads
+again, all swimming as if in a trance, dipping their heads under water
+to wash the light from their bewildered eyes.</p>
+
+<p>They were quite fearless, almost senseless, at such times. I would
+stretch out my hand from the shadow, pick up an unresisting frog that
+threatened too soon to climb onto the float, and examine him at
+leisure. But Chigwooltz is wedded to his idols; the moment I released
+him he would go, fast as his legs could carry him, to put his elbows
+on the float and stare at the light again.</p>
+
+<p>Among the frogs, and especially among the toads, as among most wild
+animals, certain individuals attach themselves strongly to man, drawn
+doubtless by some unknown but no less strongly felt attraction. It was
+so there in the wilderness. The first morning after our arrival at the
+birch grove I was down at the shore, preparing a trout for baking in
+the ashes, when Chigwooltz, of the ear drums, biggest of all the
+frogs, came from among the lily pads. He had lost all fear apparently;
+he swam directly up to me, touching my hands with his nose, and even
+crawling out to my feet in the greatest curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>After that he took up his abode near the foot of the game path. I had
+only to splash the water there with my finger when he would come from
+beside a green<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> stone, or from under a log or the lily pads&mdash;for he
+had a dozen hiding places&mdash;and swim up to me to be fed, or petted, or
+to have his back scratched.</p>
+
+<p>He ate all sorts of things, insects, bread, beef, game and fish,
+either raw or cooked. I would attach a bit of meat to a string or
+straw, and wiggle it before him, to make it seem alive. The moment he
+saw it (he had a queer way sometimes of staring hard at a thing
+without seeing it) he would crouch and creep towards it, nearer and
+nearer, softly and more softly, like a cat stalking a chipmunk. Then
+there would be a red flash and the meat would be gone. The red flash
+was his tongue, which is attached at the outer end and folds back in
+his mouth. It is, moreover, large and sticky, and he can throw it out
+and back like lightning. All you see is the red flash of it, and his
+game is gone.</p>
+
+<p>One day, to try the effects of nicotine on a new subject, I took a bit
+of Simmo's black tobacco and gave it to Chigwooltz. He ate it
+thankfully, as he did everything else I gave him. In a little while he
+grew uneasy, sitting up and rubbing his belly with his fore paws.
+Presently he brought his stomach up into his mouth, turned it inside
+out to get rid of the tobacco, washed it thoroughly in the lake,
+swallowed it down again, and was ready for his bread and beef.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> A most
+convenient arrangement that; and also a perfectly unbiased opinion on
+a much debated subject.</p>
+
+<p>Chigwooltz, unlike many of my pets, was not in the least dependent on
+my bounty. Indeed, he was a remarkable hunter on his own account, and
+what he took from me he took as hospitality, not charity. One morning
+he came to me with the tail of a small trout sticking out of his
+mouth. The rest of the fish was below, being digested. Another day,
+towards twilight, I saw him resting on the lily pads, looking very
+full, with a suspicious-looking object curling out over his under lip.
+I wiggled my finger in the water, and he came from pure sociability,
+for he was beyond eating any more. The suspicious-looking object
+proved to be a bird's foot, and beside it was a pointed wing tip. That
+was too much for my curiosity. I opened his mouth and pulled out the
+bird with some difficulty, for Chigwooltz had been engaged some time
+in the act of swallowing his game and had it well down. It proved to
+be a full-grown male swallow, without a mark anywhere to show how he
+had come by his death. Chigwooltz looked at me reproachfully, but
+swallowed his game promptly the moment I had finished examining it.</p>
+
+<p>There was small doubt in my mind that he had caught his bird fairly,
+by a quick spring as the swallow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> touched the water almost at his
+nose, near one of his numerous lurking places. Still it puzzled me a
+good deal till one early morning, when I saw him in broad daylight do
+a much more difficult thing than snapping up a swallow.</p>
+
+<p>I was coming down the game path to the shore when a bird, a tree
+sparrow I thought, flew to the ground just ahead of me, and hopped to
+the water to drink. I watched him a moment curiously, then with
+intense interest as I saw a ripple steal out of the lily pads towards
+him. The ripple was Chigwooltz.</p>
+
+<p>The sparrow had finished drinking and was absorbed in a morning bath.
+Chigwooltz stole nearer and nearer, sinking himself till only his eyes
+showed above water. The ripple that flowed away on either side was
+gentle as that of a floating leaf. Then, just as the bird had sipped
+and lifted its head for a last swallow, Chigwooltz hurled himself out
+of water. One snap of his big mouth, and the sparrow was done for.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, when I came down to my canoe, he was sitting low on the
+lily pads, winking sleepily now and then, with eight little sparrow's
+toes curling over the rim of his under lip, like a hornpout's
+whiskers.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="VI_CLOUD_WINGS_THE_EAGLE" id="VI_CLOUD_WINGS_THE_EAGLE"></a>VI. CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE.</h2>
+
+<div class="floatl">
+   <img src="images/image10.jpg"
+      height="663"
+      width="200"
+      alt="Old Whitehead"
+      title="Old Whitehead"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>"Here he is again! here's Old Whitehead, robbing the fish-hawk."</p>
+
+<p>I started up from the little <i>commoosie</i> beyond the fire, at Gillie's
+excited cry, and ran to join him on the shore. A glance out over
+Caribou Point to the big bay, where innumerable whitefish were
+shoaling, showed me another chapter in a long but always interesting
+story. Ismaquehs, the fish-hawk, had risen from the lake with a big
+fish, and was doing his best to get away to his nest, where his young
+ones were clamoring. Over him soared the eagle, still as fate and as
+sure, now dropping to flap a wing in Ismaquehs' face, now touching him
+with his great talons gently, as if to say, "Do you feel that,
+Ismaquehs? If I grip once 't will be the end of you and your fish
+together. And what will the little ones do then, up in the nest on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> the old pine? Better drop him peacefully; you can catch
+another.&mdash;<i>Drop him</i>! I say."</p>
+
+<div class="floatr">
+   <a href="images/image11h.jpg" >
+     <img src="images/image11.jpg"
+        width="400" height="588"
+        alt="Ismaquehs"
+        title="Ismaquehs" />
+   </a>
+</div>
+
+<p>Up to that moment the eagle had merely bothered the big hawk's flight,
+with a gentle reminder now and then that he meant no harm, but wanted
+the fish which he could not catch himself. Now there was a change, a
+flash of the king's temper. With a roar of wings he whirled round the
+hawk like a tempest, bringing up short and fierce, squarely in his
+line of flight. There he poised on dark broad wings, his yellow eyes
+glaring fiercely into the shrinking soul of Ismaquehs, his talons
+drawn hard back for a deadly strike. And Simmo the Indian, who had run
+down to join me, muttered: "Cheplahgan mad now. Ismaquehs find-um out
+in a minute."</p>
+
+<p>But Ismaquehs knew just when to stop. With a cry of rage he dropped,
+or rather threw, his fish, hoping it would strike the water and be
+lost. On the instant the eagle wheeled out of the way and bent his
+head sharply. I had seen him fold wings and drop before, and had held
+my breath at the speed. But dropping was of no use now, for the fish
+fell faster. Instead he swooped downward, adding to the weight of his
+fall the push of his strong wings, glancing down like a bolt to catch
+the fish ere it struck the water, and rising again in a great
+curve&mdash;up and away steadily, evenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> as the king should fly, to his
+own little ones far away on the mountain.</p>
+
+<p>Weeks before, I had had my introduction to Old Whitehead, as Gillie
+called him, on the Madawaska. We were pushing up river on our way to
+the wilderness, when a great outcry and the <i>bang-bang</i> of a gun
+sounded just ahead. Dashing round a wooded bend, we came upon a man
+with a smoking gun, a boy up to his middle in the river, trying to get
+across, and, on the other side, a black sheep running about <i>baaing</i>
+at every jump.</p>
+
+<p>"He's taken the lamb; he's taken the lamb!" shouted the boy. Following
+the direction of his pointing finger, I saw Old Whitehead, a splendid
+bird, rising heavily above the tree-tops across the clearing. Reaching
+back almost instinctively, I clutched the heavy rifle which Gillie put
+into my hand and jumped out of the canoe; for with a rifle one wants
+steady footing. It was a long shot, but not so very difficult; Old
+Whitehead had got his bearings and was moving steadily, straight away.
+A second after the report of the rifle, we saw him hitch and swerve in
+the air; then two white quills came floating down, and as he turned we
+saw the break in his broad white tail. And that was the mark that we
+knew him by ever afterwards.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span></p>
+
+<p>That was nearly eighty miles by canoe from where we now stood, though
+scarcely ten in a straight line over the mountains; for the rivers and
+lakes we were following doubled back almost to the starting point; and
+the whole wild, splendid country was the eagle's hunting ground.
+Wherever I went I saw him, following the rivers for stranded trout and
+salmon, or floating high in air where he could overlook two or three
+wilderness lakes, with as many honest fish-hawks catching their
+dinners. I had promised the curator of a museum that I would get him
+an eagle that summer, and so took to hunting the great bird
+diligently. But hunting was of little use, except to teach me many of
+his ways and habits; for he seemed to have eyes and ears all over him;
+and whether I crept like a snake through the woods, or floated like a
+wild duck in my canoe over the water, he always saw or heard me, and
+was off before I could get within shooting distance.</p>
+
+<p>Then I tried to trap him. I placed two large trout, with a steel trap
+between them, in a shallow spot on the river that I could watch from
+my camp on a bluff, half a mile below. Next day Gillie, who was more
+eager than I, set up a shout; and running out I saw Old Whitehead
+standing in the shallows and flopping about the trap. We jumped into a
+canoe and pushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> up river in hot haste, singing in exultation that we
+had the fierce old bird at last. When we doubled the last point that
+hid the shallows, there was Old Whitehead, still tugging away at a
+fish, and splashing the water not thirty yards away. I shall not soon
+forget his attitude and expression as we shot round the point, his
+body erect and rigid, his wings half spread, his head thrust forward,
+eyelids drawn straight, and a strong fierce gleam of freedom and utter
+wildness in his bright eyes. So he stood, a magnificent creature, till
+we were almost upon him,&mdash;when he rose quietly, taking one of the
+trout. The other was already in his stomach. He was not in the trap at
+all, but had walked carefully round it. The splashing was made in
+tearing one fish to pieces with his claws, and freeing the other from
+a stake that held it.</p>
+
+<p>After that he would not go near the shallows; for a new experience had
+come into his life, leaving its shadow dark behind it. He who was king
+of all he surveyed from the old blasted pine on the crag's top, who
+had always heretofore been the hunter, now knew what it meant to be
+hunted. And the fear of it was in his eyes, I think, and softened
+their fierce gleam when I looked into them again, weeks later, by his
+own nest on the mountain.</p>
+
+<p>Simmo entered also into our hunting, but without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> enthusiasm or
+confidence. He had chased the same eagle before&mdash;all one summer, in
+fact, when a sportsman, whom he was guiding, had offered him twenty
+dollars for the royal bird's skin. But Old Whitehead still wore it
+triumphantly; and Simmo prophesied for him long life and a natural
+death. "No use hunt-um dat heagle," he said simply. "I try once an'
+can't get near him. He see everyt'ing; and wot he don't see, he hear.
+'Sides, he kin <i>feel</i> danger. Das why he build nest way off, long
+ways, O don' know where." This last with a wave of his arm to include
+the universe. Cheplahgan, Old Cloud Wings, he proudly called the bird
+that had defied him in a summer's hunting.</p>
+
+<p>At first I had hunted him like any other savage; partly, of course, to
+get his skin for the curator; partly, perhaps, to save the settler's
+lambs over on the Madawaska; but chiefly just to kill him, to exult in
+his death flaps, and to rid the woods of a cruel tyrant. Gradually,
+however, a change came over me as I hunted; I sought him less and less
+for his skin and his life, and more and more for himself, to know all
+about him. I used to watch him by the hour from my camp on the big
+lake, sailing quietly over Caribou Point, after he had eaten with his
+little ones, and was disposed to let Ismaquehs go on with his fishing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> in peace. He would set his great wings to the breeze and sit like a
+kite in the wind, mounting steadily in an immense spiral, up and up,
+without the shadow of effort, till the eye grew dizzy in following.
+And I loved to watch him, so strong, so free, so sure of
+himself&mdash;round and round, up and ever up, without hurry, without
+exertion; and every turn found the heavens nearer and the earth spread
+wider below. Now head and tail gleam silver white in the sunshine now
+he hangs motionless, a cross of jet that a lady might wear at her
+throat, against the clear, unfathomable blue of the June
+heavens&mdash;there! he is lost in the blue, so high that I cannot see any
+more. But even as I turn away he plunges down into vision again,
+dropping with folded wings straight down like a plummet, faster and
+faster, larger and larger, through a terrifying rush of air, till I
+spring to my feet and catch the breath, as if I myself were falling.
+And just before he dashes himself to pieces he turns in the air, head
+downward, and half spreads his wings, and goes shooting, slanting down
+towards the lake, then up in a great curve to the tree tops, where he
+can watch better what Kakagos, the rare woods-raven, is doing, and
+what game he is hunting. For that is what Cheplahgan came down in such
+a hurry to find out about.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span></p>
+
+<p>Again he would come in the early morning; sweeping up river as if he
+had already been a long day's journey, with the air of far-away and
+far-to-go in his onward rush. And if I were at the trout pools, and
+very still, I would hear the strong silken rustle of his wings as he
+passed. At midday I would see him poised over the highest mountain-top
+northward, at an enormous altitude, where the imagination itself could
+not follow the splendid sweep of his vision; and at evening he would
+cross the lake, moving westward into the sunset on tireless
+pinions&mdash;always strong, noble, magnificent in his power and
+loneliness, a perfect emblem of the great lonely magnificent
+wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>One day as I watched him, it swept over me suddenly that forest and
+river would be incomplete without him. The thought of this came back
+to me, and spared him to the wilderness, on the last occasion when I
+went hunting for his life.</p>
+
+<p>That was just after we reached the big lake, where I saw him robbing
+the fish-hawk. After much searching and watching I found a great log
+by the outlet where Old Whitehead often perched. There was a big eddy
+hard by, on the edge of a shallow, and he used to sit on the log,
+waiting for fish to come out where he could wade in and get them.
+There was a sickness among the suckers that year (it comes regularly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> every few years, as among rabbits), and they would come struggling out
+of the deep water to rest on the sand, only to be caught by the minks
+and fish-hawks and bears and Old Whitehead, all of whom were waiting
+and hungry for fish.</p>
+
+<p>For several days I put a big bait of trout and whitefish on the edge
+of the shallows. The first two baits were put out late in the
+afternoon, and a bear got them both the next night. Then I put them
+out in the early morning, and before noon Cheplahgan had found them.
+He came straight as a string from his watch place over the mountain,
+miles away, causing me to wonder greatly what strange sixth sense
+guided him; for sight and smell seemed equally out of the question.
+The next day he came again. Then I placed the best bait of all in the
+shallows, and hid in the dense underbrush near, with my gun.</p>
+
+<p>He came at last, after hours of waiting, dropping from above the
+tree-tops with a heavy rustling of pinions. And as he touched the old
+log, and spread his broad white tail, I saw and was proud of the gap
+which my bullet had made weeks before. He stood there a moment erect
+and splendid, head, neck, and tail a shining white; even the dark
+brown feathers of his body glinted in the bright sunshine. And he
+turned his head slowly from side to side, his keen <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> eyes flashing, as
+if he would say, "Behold, a king!" to Chigwooltz the frog, and
+Tookhees the wood mouse, and to any other chance wild creature that
+might watch him from the underbrush at his unkingly act of feeding on
+dead fish. Then he hopped down&mdash;rather awkwardly, it must be
+confessed; for he is a creature of the upper deeps, who cannot bear to
+touch the earth&mdash;seized a fish, which he tore to pieces with his claws
+and ate greedily. Twice I tried to shoot him; but the thought of the
+wilderness without him was upon me, and held me back. Then, too, it
+seemed so mean to pot him from ambush when he had come down to earth,
+where he was at a disadvantage; and when he clutched some of the
+larger fish in his talons, and rose swiftly and bore away westward,
+all desire to kill him was gone. There were little Cloud Wings, it
+seemed, which I must also find and watch. After that I hunted him more
+diligently than before, but without my gun. And a curious desire,
+which I could not account for, took possession of me: to touch this
+untamed, untouched creature of the clouds and mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Next day I did it. There were thick bushes growing along one end of
+the old log on which the eagle rested. Into these I cut a tunnel with
+my hunting-knife, arranging the tops in such a way as to screen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> me
+more effectively. Then I put out my bait, a good two hours before the
+time of Old Whitehead's earliest appearance, and crawled into my den
+to wait.</p>
+
+<p>I had barely settled comfortably into my place, wondering how long
+human patience could endure the sting of insects and the hot close air
+without moving or stirring a leaf, when the heavy silken rustle
+sounded close at hand, and I heard the grip of his talons on the log.
+There he stood, at arm's length, turning his head uneasily, the light
+glinting on his white crest, the fierce, untamed flash in his bright
+eye. Never before had he seemed so big, so strong, so splendid; my
+heart jumped at the thought of him as our national emblem. I am glad
+still to have seen that emblem once, and felt the thrill of it.</p>
+
+<p>But I had little time to think, for Cheplahgan was restless. Some
+instinct seemed to warn him of a danger that he could not see. The
+moment his head was turned away, I stretched out my arm. Scarcely a
+leaf moved with the motion, yet he whirled like a flash and crouched
+to spring, his eyes glaring straight into mine with an intensity that
+I could scarce endure. Perhaps I was mistaken, but in that swift
+instant the hard glare in his eyes seemed to soften with fear, as he
+recognized me as the one thing in the wilderness that dared to hunt
+him, the king. My hand <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> touched him fair on the shoulder; then he shot
+into the air, and went sweeping in great circles over the tree-tops,
+still looking down at the man, wondering and fearing at the way in
+which he had been brought into the man's power.</p>
+
+<p>But one thing he did not understand. Standing erect on the log, and
+looking up at him as he swept over me, I kept thinking, "I did it, I
+did it, Cheplahgan, old Cloud Wings. And I had grabbed your legs, and
+pinned you down, and tied you in a bag, and brought you to camp, but
+that I chose to let you go free. And that is better than shooting you.
+Now I shall find your little ones and touch them too."</p>
+
+<p>For several days I had been watching Old Whitehead's lines of flight,
+and had concluded that his nest was somewhere in the hills northwest
+of the big lake. I went there one afternoon, and while confused in the
+big timber, which gave no outlook in any direction, I saw, not Old
+Whitehead, but a larger eagle, his mate undoubtedly, flying straight
+westward with food towards a great cliff, that I had noticed with my
+glass one day from a mountain on the other side of the lake.</p>
+
+<p>When I went there, early next morning, it was Cheplahgan himself who
+showed me where his nest was. I was hunting along the foot of the
+cliff when, glancing back towards the lake, I saw him coming <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> far
+away, and hid in the underbrush. He passed very near, and following, I
+saw him standing on a ledge near the top of the cliff. Just below him,
+in the top of a stunted tree growing out of the face of the rock was a
+huge mass of sticks that formed the nest, with a great mother-eagle
+standing by, feeding the little ones. Both birds started away silently
+when I appeared, but came back soon and swept back and forth over me,
+as I sat watching the nest and the face of the cliff through my glass.
+No need now of caution. Both birds seemed to know instinctively why I
+had come, and that the fate of the eaglets lay in my hands if I could
+but scale the cliff.</p>
+
+<p>It was scaring business, that three-hundred-foot climb up the sheer
+face of the mountain. Fortunately the rock was seamed and scarred with
+the wear of centuries; bushes and stunted trees grew out of countless
+crevices, which gave me sure footing, and sometimes a lift of a dozen
+feet or more on my way up. As I climbed, the eagles circled lower and
+lower; the strong rustling of their wings was about my head
+continually; they seemed to grow larger, fiercer, every moment, as my
+hold grew more precarious, and the earth and the pointed tree-tops
+dropped farther below. There was a good revolver in my pocket, to use
+in case of necessity; but had the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> great birds attacked me I should
+have fared badly, for at times I was obliged to grip hard with both
+hands, my face to the cliff, leaving the eagles free to strike from
+above and behind. I think now that had I shown fear in such a place,
+or shouted, or tried to fray them away, they would have swooped upon
+me, wing and claw, like furies. I could see it in their fierce eyes as
+I looked up. But the thought of the times when I had hunted him, and
+especially the thought of that time when I had reached out of the
+bushes and touched him, was upon Old Whitehead and made him fear. So I
+kept steadily on my way, apparently giving no thought to the eagles,
+though deep inside I was anxious enough, and reached the foot of the
+tree in which the nest was made.</p>
+
+<p>I stood there a long time, my arm clasping the twisted old boll,
+looking out over the forest spread wide below, partly to regain
+courage, partly to reassure the eagles, which were circling very near
+with a kind of intense wonder in their eyes, but chiefly to make up my
+mind what to do next. The tree was easy to climb, but the nest&mdash;a huge
+affair, which had been added to year after year&mdash;filled the whole
+tree-top, and I could gain no foothold, from which to look over and
+see the eaglets, without tearing the nest to pieces. I did not want to
+do that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> and I doubted whether the mother-eagle would stand it. A
+dozen times she seemed on the point of dropping on my head to tear it
+with her talons; but always she veered off as I looked up quietly, and
+Old Whitehead, with the mark of my bullet strong upon him, swept
+between her and me and seemed to say, "Wait, wait. I don't understand;
+but he can kill us if he will&mdash;and the little ones are in his power."
+Now he was closer to me than ever, and the fear was vanishing. But so
+also was the fierceness.</p>
+
+<p>From the foot of the tree the crevice in which it grew led upwards to
+the right, then doubled back to the ledge above the nest, upon which
+Cheplahgan was standing when I discovered him. The lip of this crevice
+made a dizzy path that one might follow by moving crabwise, his face
+to the cliff, with only its roughnesses to cling to with his fingers.
+I tried it at last, crept up and out twenty feet, and back ten, and
+dropped with a great breath of relief to a broad ledge covered with
+bones and fish scales, the relics of many a savage feast. Below me,
+almost within reach, was the nest, with two dark, scraggly young birds
+resting on twigs and grass, with fish, flesh and fowl in a gory,
+skinny, scaly ring about them&mdash;the most savage-looking household into
+which I ever looked unbidden.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span></p>
+
+<p>But even as I looked and wondered, and tried to make out what other
+game had been furnished the young savages I had helped to feed, a
+strange thing happened, which touched me as few things ever have among
+the wild creatures. The eagles had followed me close along the last
+edge of rock, hoping no doubt in their wild hearts that I would slip,
+and end their troubles, and give my body as food to the young. Now, as
+I sat on the ledge, peering eagerly into the nest, the great
+mother-bird left me and hovered over her eaglets, as if to shield them
+with her wings from even the sight of my eyes. But Old Whitehead still
+circled over me. Lower he came, and lower, till with a supreme effort
+of daring he folded his wings and dropped to the ledge beside me,
+within ten feet, and turned and looked into my eyes. "See," he seemed
+to say, "we are within reach again. You touched me once; I don't know
+how or why. Here I am now, to touch or to kill, as you will; only
+spare the little ones."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later the mother-bird dropped to the edge of the nest. And
+there we sat, we three, with the wonder upon us all, the young eagles
+at our feet, the cliff above, and, three hundred feet below, the
+spruce tops of the wilderness reaching out and away to the mountains
+beyond the big lake.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> I sat perfectly still, which is the only way to
+reassure a wild creature; and soon I thought Cheplahgan had lost his
+fear in his anxiety for the little ones. But the moment I rose to go
+he was in the air again, circling restlessly above my head with his
+mate, the same wild fierceness in his eyes as he looked down. A
+half-hour later I had gained the top of the cliff and started eastward
+towards the lake, coming down by a much easier way than that by which
+I went up. Later I returned several times, and from a distance watched
+the eaglets being fed. But I never climbed to the nest again.</p>
+
+<p>One day, when I came to the little thicket on the cliff where I used
+to lie and watch the nest through my glass, I found that one eaglet
+was gone. The other stood on the edge of the nest, looking down
+fearfully into the abyss, whither, no doubt, his bolder nest mate had
+flown, and calling disconsolately from time to time. His whole
+attitude showed plainly that he was hungry and cross and lonesome.
+Presently the mother-eagle came swiftly up from the valley, and there
+was food in her talons. She came to the edge of the nest, hovered over
+it a moment, so as to give the hungry eaglet a sight and smell of
+food, then went slowly down to the valley, taking the food with her,
+telling the little one in her own way to come and he should have it.
+He called after her loudly from the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> edge of the nest, and spread his
+wings a dozen times to follow. But the plunge was too awful; his heart
+failed him; and he settled back in the nest, and pulled his head down
+into his shoulders, and shut his eyes, and tried to forget that he was
+hungry. The meaning of the little comedy was plain enough. She was
+trying to teach him to fly, telling him that his wings were grown and
+the time was come to use them; but he was afraid.</p>
+
+<p>In a little while she came back again, this time without food, and
+hovered over the nest, trying every way to induce the little one to
+leave it. She succeeded at last, when with a desperate effort he
+sprang upward and flapped to the ledge above, where I had sat and
+watched him with Old Whitehead. Then, after surveying the world
+gravely from his new place, he flapped back to the nest, and turned a
+deaf ear to all his mother's assurances that he could fly just as
+easily to the tree-tops below, if he only would.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, as if discouraged, she rose well above him. I held my
+breath, for I knew what was coming. The little fellow stood on the
+edge of the nest, looking down at the plunge which he dared not take.
+There was a sharp cry from behind, which made him alert, tense as a
+watch-spring. The next instant the mother-eagle had swooped, striking
+the nest at his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> feet, sending his support of twigs and himself with
+them out into the air together.</p>
+
+<p>He was afloat now, afloat on the blue air in spite of himself, and
+flapped lustily for life. Over him, under him, beside him hovered the
+mother on tireless wings, calling softly that she was there. But the
+awful fear of the depths and the lance tops of the spruces was upon
+the little one; his flapping grew more wild; he fell faster and
+faster. Suddenly&mdash;more in fright, it seemed to me, than because he had
+spent his strength&mdash;he lost his balance and tipped head downward in
+the air. It was all over now, it seemed; he folded his wings to be
+dashed in pieces among the trees. Then like a flash the old
+mother-eagle shot under him; his despairing feet touched her broad
+shoulders, between her wings. He righted himself, rested an instant,
+found his head; then she dropped like a shot from under him, leaving
+him to come down on his own wings. A handful of feathers, torn out by
+his claws, hovered slowly down after them.</p>
+
+<p>It was all the work of an instant before I lost them among the trees
+far below. And when I found them again with my glass, the eaglet was
+in the top of a great pine, and the mother was feeding him.</p>
+
+<p>And then, standing there alone in the great wilderness, it flashed
+upon me for the first time just what <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> the wise old prophet meant;
+though he wrote long ago, in a distant land, and another than Cloud
+Wings had taught her little ones, all unconscious of the kindly eyes
+that watched out of a thicket: "As the eagle stirreth up her nest,
+fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them,
+beareth them on her wings,&mdash;so the Lord."</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="VII_UPWEEKIS_THE_SHADOW" id="VII_UPWEEKIS_THE_SHADOW"></a>VII. UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW.</h2>
+
+<div class="floatl">
+   <img src="images/image12.jpg"
+      height="726"
+      width="300"
+      alt="Upweekis"
+      title="Upweekis"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>"Long 'go, O long time 'go," so says Simmo the Indian, Upweekis the
+lynx came to Clote Scarpe one day with a complaint. "See," he said,
+"you are good to everybody but me. Pekquam the fisher is cunning and
+patient; he can catch what he will. Lhoks the panther is strong and
+tireless; nothing can get away from him, not even the great moose. And
+Mooween the bear sleeps all winter, when game is scarce, and in summer
+eats everything,&mdash;roots and mice and berries and dead fish and meat
+and honey and red ants. So he is always full and happy. But my eyes
+are no good; they are bright, like Cheplahgan the eagle's, yet they
+cannot see anything unless it moves; for you have made every creature
+that hides just like the place he hides in. My nose is worse; it
+cannot smell <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> Seksagadagee the grouse, though I walk over him asleep
+in the snow. And my feet make a noise in the leaves, so that Moktaques
+the rabbit hears me, and hides, and laughs behind me when I go to
+catch him. And I am always hungry. Make me now like the shadows that
+play, in order that nothing may notice me when I go hunting."</p>
+
+<p>So Clote Scarpe, the great chief who was kind to all animals, gave
+Upweekis a soft gray coat that is almost invisible in the woods,
+summer or winter, and made his feet large, and padded them with soft
+fur; so that indeed he is like the shadows that play, for you can
+neither see nor hear him. But Clote Scarpe remembered Moktaques the
+rabbit also, and gave him two coats, a brown one for summer and a
+white one for winter. Consequently he is harder than ever to see when
+he is quiet; and Upweekis must still depend upon his wits to catch
+him. As Upweekis has few wits to spare, Moktaques often sees him close
+at hand, and chuckles in his form under the brown ferns, or sits up
+straight under the snow-covered hemlock tips, and watches the big lynx
+at his hunting.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, on a winter night, when you camp in the wilderness, and the
+snow is sifting down into your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> fire, and the woods are all still, a
+fierce screech breaks suddenly out of the darkness just behind your
+wind-break of boughs. You jump to your feet and grab your rifle; but
+Simmo, who is down on his knees before the fire frying pork, only
+turns his head to listen a moment, and says: "Upweekis catch-um rabbit
+dat time." Then he gets closer to the fire, for the screech was not
+pleasant, and goes on with his cooking.</p>
+
+<p>You are more curious than he, or you want the big cat's skin to take
+home with you. You steal away towards the cry, past the little
+<i>commoosie</i>, or shelter, that you made hastily at sundown when the
+trail ended. There, with your back to the fire and the <i>commoosie</i>
+between, the light does not dazzle your eyes; you can trace the
+shadows creeping in and out stealthily among the underbrush. But if
+Upweekis is there&mdash;and he probably is&mdash;you do not see him. He is a
+shadow among the shadows. Only there is this difference: shadows move
+no bushes. As you watch, a fir-tip stirs; a bit of snow drops down.
+You gaze intently at the spot. Then out of the deep shadow two living
+coals are suddenly kindled. They grow larger and larger, glowing,
+flashing, burning holes into your eyes till you brush them swiftly
+with your hand. A shiver runs over you, for to look into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> the eyes of
+a lynx at night, when the light catches them, is a scary experience.
+Your rifle jumps to position; the glowing coals are quenched on the
+instant. Then, when your eyes have blinked the fascination out of
+them, the shadows go creeping in and out again, and Upweekis is lost
+amongst them.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, indeed, you see him again. Moktaques, the big white hare,
+who forgets a thing the moment it is past, sees you standing there and
+is full of curiosity. He forgets that he was being hunted a moment
+ago, and comes hopping along to see what you are. You back away toward
+the fire. He scampers off in a fright, but presently comes hopping
+after you. Watch the underbrush behind him sharply. In a moment it
+stirs stealthily, as if a shadow were moving it; and there is the
+lynx, stealing along in the snow with his eyes blazing. Again
+Moktaques feels that he is hunted, and does the only safe thing; he
+crouches low in the snow, where a fir-tip bends over him, and is still
+as the earth. His color hides him perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>Upweekis has lost the trail again; he wavers back and forth, like a
+shadow under a swinging lamp, turning his great head from side to
+side. He cannot see nor hear nor smell his game; but he saw a bit of
+snow fly a moment ago, and knows that it came from Moktaques' big
+pads. Don't stir now; be still as the great spruce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> in whose shadow
+you stand; and, once in a hunter's lifetime perhaps, you will see a
+curious tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>The lynx settles himself in the snow, with all four feet close
+together, ready for a spring. As you watch and wonder, a screech rings
+out through the woods, so sharp and fierce that no rabbit's nerves can
+stand it close at hand and be still. Moktaques jumps straight up in
+the air. The lynx sees it, whirls, hurls himself at the spot. Another
+screech, a different one, and then you know that it's all over.</p>
+
+<p>And that is why Upweekis' cry is so fierce and sudden on a winter
+night. Your fire attracts the rabbits. Upweekis knows this, or is
+perhaps attracted himself and comes also, and hides among the shadows.
+But he never catches anything unless he blunders onto it. That is why
+he wanders so much in winter and passes twenty rabbits before he
+catches one. So when he knows that Moktaques is near, watching the
+light, but remaining himself invisible, Upweekis crouches for a
+spring; then he screeches fearfully. Moktaques hears it and is
+startled, as anybody else would be, hearing such a cry near him. He
+jumps in a fright and pays the penalty.</p>
+
+<p>If the lynx is a big one, and very hungry, as he generally is in
+winter, you may get some unpleasant impressions of him in another way
+when you venture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> far from your fire. His eyes blaze out at you from
+the darkness, just two big glowing spots, which are all you see, and
+which disappear at your first motion. Then as you strain your eyes,
+and watch and listen, you feel the coals upon you again from another
+place; and there they are, under a bush on your left, creeping closer
+and blazing deep red. They disappear suddenly as the lynx turns his
+head, only to reappear and fascinate you from another point. So he
+plays with you as if you were a great mouse, creeping closer all the
+time, swishing his stub tail fiercely to lash himself up to the
+courage point of springing. But his movements are so still and shadowy
+that unless he follows you as you back away to the fire, and so comes
+within the circle of light, the chances are that you will never see
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed the chances are always that way, day or night, unless you turn
+hunter and set a trap for him in the rabbit paths which he follows
+nightly, and hang a bait over it to make him look up and forget his
+steps. In summer he goes to the burned lands for the rabbits that
+swarm in the thickets, and to rear his young in seclusion. You find
+his tracks there all about, and the marks of his killing; but though
+you watch and prowl all day and come home in the twilight, you will
+learn little. He hears you and skulks away amid the lights <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> and
+shadows of the hillside, and so hides himself&mdash;in plain sight,
+sometimes, like a young partridge&mdash;that he manages to keep a clean
+record in the notebook where you hoped to write down all about him.</p>
+
+<p>In winter you cross his tracks, great round tracks that wander
+everywhere through the big woods, and you think: Now I shall find him
+surely. But though you follow for miles and learn much about him,
+finding where he passed this rabbit close at hand, without suspecting
+it, and caught that one by accident, and missed the partridge that
+burst out of the snow under his very feet,&mdash;still Upweekis himself
+remains only a shadow of the woods. Once, after a glorious long tramp
+on his trail, I found the spot where he had been sleeping a moment
+before. But beside that experience I must put fifty other trails that
+I have followed, of which I never saw the end nor the beginning. And
+whenever I have found out anything about Upweekis it has generally
+come unexpectedly, as most good things do.</p>
+
+<p>Once the chance came as I was watching a muskrat at his supper. It was
+twilight in the woods. I had drifted in close to shore in my canoe to
+see what Musquash was doing on top of a rock. All muskrats have
+favorite eating places&mdash;a rock, a stranded log, a tree boll that leans
+out over the water, and always a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> pretty spot&mdash;whither they bring food
+from a distance, evidently for the purpose of eating it where they
+feel most at home. This one had gathered a half dozen big fresh-water
+clams onto his dining table, and sat down in the midst to enjoy the
+feast. He would take a clam in his fore paws, whack it a few times on
+the rock till the shell cracked, then open it with his teeth and
+devour the morsel inside. He ate leisurely, tasting each clam
+critically before swallowing, and sitting up often to wash his
+whiskers or to look out over the lake. A hermit thrush sang
+marvelously sweet above him; the twilight colors glowed deep and
+deeper in the water below, where his shadow was clearly eating clams
+also, in the midst of heaven's splendor.&mdash;Altogether a pretty scene,
+and a moment of peace that I still love to remember. I quite forgot
+that Musquash is a villain. But the tragedy was near, as it always is
+in the wilderness. Suddenly a movement caught my eye on the bank
+above. Something was waving nervously under the bushes. Before I could
+make out what it was, there was a fearful rush, a gleam of wild yellow
+eyes, a squeak from the muskrat. Then Upweekis, looking gaunt and dark
+and strange in his summer coat, was crouched on the rock with Musquash
+between his great paws, growling fiercely as he cracked the bones. He
+bit his game all over, to make <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> sure that it was quite dead, then took
+it by the back of the neck, glided into the bushes with his stub tail
+twitching, and became a shadow again.</p>
+
+<p>Another time I was perched up in a lodged tree, some twenty feet from
+the ground, watching a big bait of fish which I had put in an open
+spot for anything that might choose to come and get it. I was hoping
+for a bear, and so climbed above the ground that he might not get my
+scent should he come from leeward. It was early autumn, and my
+intentions were wholly peaceable. I had no weapon of any kind.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon something took to chasing a red squirrel near
+me. I heard them scurrying through the trees, but could see nothing.
+The chase passed out of hearing, and I had almost forgotten it, for
+something was moving in the underbrush near my bait, when back it came
+with a rush. The squirrel, half dead with fright, leaped from a
+spruce-tip to the ground, jumped onto the tree in which I sat, and
+raced up the incline, almost to my feet, where he sprang to a branch
+and sat chattering hysterically between two fears. After him came a
+pine marten, following swiftly, catching the scent of his game, not
+from the bark or the ground, but apparently from the air. Scarcely had
+he jumped upon my tree when there was a screech and a rush in the
+underbrush just below him, and out of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> bushes came a young lynx to
+join in the chase. He missed the marten on the ground, but sprang to
+my tree like a flash. I remember still that the only sound I was
+conscious of at the time was the ripping of his nails in the dead
+bark. He had been seeking my bait undoubtedly&mdash;for it was a good lynx
+country, and Upweekis loves fish like a cat&mdash;when the chase passed
+under his nose and he joined it on the instant.</p>
+
+<p>Halfway up the incline the marten smelled me, or was terrified by the
+noise behind him and leaped aside. A branch upon which I was leaning
+swayed or snapped, and the lucivee stopped as if struck, crouching
+lower and lower against the tree, his big yellow expressionless eyes
+glaring straight into mine. A moment only he stood the steady look;
+then his eyes wavered; he turned his head, leaped for the underbrush,
+and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Another moment and Meeko the squirrel had forgotten his fright and
+peril and everything else save his curiosity to find out who I was and
+all about me. He had to pass quite close to me to get to another tree,
+but anything was better than going back where the marten might be
+waiting; so he was presently over my head, snickering and barking to
+make me move, and scolding me soundly for disturbing the peace of the
+woods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> In summer Upweekis is a solitary creature, rearing his young
+away back on the wildest burned lands, where game is plenty and where
+it is almost impossible to find him except by accident. In winter also
+he roams alone for the most part; but occasionally, when rabbits are
+scarce, as they are periodically in the northern woods, he gathers in
+small bands for the purpose of pulling down big game that he would
+never attack singly. Generally Upweekis is skulking and cowardly with
+man; but when driven by hunger (as I found out once) or when hunting
+in bands, he is a savage beast and must be followed cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>I had heard much of the fierceness of these hunting bands from
+settlers and hunters; and once a friend of mine, an old backwoodsman,
+had a narrow escape from them. He had a dog, Grip, a big brindled cur,
+of whose prowess in killing "varmints" he was always bragging, calling
+him the best "lucififer" dog in all Canada. Lucififer, by the way, is
+a local name for the lynx on the upper St. John, where Grip and his
+master lived.</p>
+
+<p>One day in winter the master missed a young heifer and went on his
+trail, with Grip and his axe for companions. Presently he came to lynx
+tracks, then to signs of a struggle, then plump upon six or seven of
+the big cats snarling savagely over the body of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> heifer. Grip, the
+lucififer dog, rushed in blindly, and in two minutes was torn to
+ribbons. Then the lynxes came creeping and snarling towards the man,
+who backed away, shouting and swinging his axe. He killed one by a
+lucky blow, as it sprang for his chest. The others drove him to his
+own door; but he would never have reached it, so he told me, but for a
+long strip of open land that he had cleared back into the woods. He
+would face and charge the beasts, which seemed more afraid of his
+voice than of the axe, then run desperately to keep them from circling
+and getting between him and safety. When he reached the open strip
+they followed a little way along the edges of the underbrush, but
+returned one at a time when they were sure he had no further mind to
+disturb their feast or their fighting.</p>
+
+<p>It is curious that when Upweekis and his hunting pack pull down game
+in this way the first thing they do is to fight over it. There may be
+meat enough and to spare, but under their fearful hunger is the old
+beastly instinct for each one to grab all for himself; so they fall
+promptly to teeth and claws before the game is dead. The fightings at
+such times are savage affairs, both to the eye and ear. One forgets
+that Upweekis is a shadow, and thinks that he must be a fiend.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span></p>
+
+<p>One day in winter, when after caribou, I came upon a very large lynx
+track, the largest I have ever seen. It was two days old; but it led
+in my direction, toward the caribou barrens, and I followed it to see
+what I should see.</p>
+
+<p>Presently it joined four other lynx trails, and a mile farther on all
+five trails went forward in great flying leaps, each lynx leaving a
+hole in the snow as big as a bucket at every jump. A hundred yards of
+this kind of traveling and the trails joined another trail,&mdash;that of a
+wounded caribou from the barrens. His tracks showed that he had been
+traveling with difficulty on three legs. Here was a place where he had
+stood to listen; and there was another place where even untrained eyes
+might see that he had plunged forward with a start of fear. It was a
+silent story, but full of eager interest in every detail.</p>
+
+<p>The lucivee tracks now showed different tactics. They crossed and
+crisscrossed the trail, appearing now in front, now behind, now on
+either side the wounded bull, evidently closing in upon him warily.
+Here and there was a depression in the snow where one had crouched,
+growling, as the game passed. Then the struggle began. First, there
+was a trampled place in the snow where the bull had taken a stand and
+the big cats went creeping about him, waiting for a chance to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> spring all together. He broke away from that, but the three-legged
+gallop speedily exhausted him. Only when he trots is a caribou
+tireless. The lynxes followed the deadly cat-play began again. First
+one, then another leaped, only to be shaken off; then two, then all
+five were upon the poor brute, which still struggled forward. The
+record was written red all over the snow.</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+   <a href="images/image13h.jpg" >
+     <img src="images/image13.jpg"
+        width="400" height="572"
+        alt="The lynxes and caribou"
+        title="The lynxes and caribou" />
+   </a>
+</div>
+
+<p>As I followed it cautiously, a snarl sounded just ahead. I kicked off
+my snowshoes and circled noiselessly to the left, so as to look out
+over a little opening. There lay the stripped carcass of the caribou
+with two lynxes still upon it, growling fearfully at each other as
+they pulled at the bones. Another lynx crouched in the snow, under a
+bush, watching the scene. Two others circled about each other
+snarling, looking for an opening, but too well fed to care for a fight
+just then. Two or three foxes, a pine marten, and a fisher moved
+ceaselessly in and out, sniffing hungrily, and waiting for a chance to
+seize every scrap of bone or skin that was left unguarded for an
+instant. Above them a dozen moose birds kept the same watch
+vigilantly. As I stole nearer, hoping to get behind an old log where I
+could lie and watch the spectacle, some creature scurried out of the
+underbrush at one side. I was watching the movement, when a loud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span><i>kee-yaaah!</i> startled me; I whirled towards the opening. From behind
+the old log a fierce round head with tasseled ears rose up, and the
+big lynx, whose trail I had first followed, sprang into sight snarling
+and spitting viciously.</p>
+
+<p>The feast stopped at the first alarm. The marten disappeared
+instantly. The foxes and the fisher and one lynx slunk away. Another,
+which I had not seen, stalked up to the carcass and put his fore paws
+upon it, and turned his savage head in my direction. Evidently other
+lynxes had come in to the kill beside the five I had followed. Then
+all the big cats crouched in the snow and stared at me steadily out of
+their wild yellow eyes.</p>
+
+<p>It was only for a moment. The big lynx on my side of the log was in a
+fighting temper; he snarled continuously. Another sprang over the log
+and crouched beside him, facing me. Then began a curious scene, of
+which I could not wait to see the end. The two lynxes hitched nearer
+and nearer to where I stood motionless, watching. They would creep
+forward a step or two, then crouch in the snow, like a cat warming her
+feet, and stare at me unblinkingly for a few moments. Then another
+hitch or two, which brought them nearer, and another stare. I could
+not look at one steadily, to make him waver; for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> moment my eyes
+were upon him the others hitched closer; and already two more lynxes
+were coming over the log. I had to draw the curtain hastily with a
+bullet between the yellow eyes of the biggest lynx, and a second
+straight into the chest of his fellow-starer, just as he wriggled down
+into the snow for a spring. The others had leaped away snarling as the
+first heavy report rolled through the woods.</p>
+
+<p>Another time, in the same region, a solitary lynx made me
+uncomfortable for half an afternoon. It was Sunday, and I had gone for
+a snowshoe tramp, leaving my rifle behind me. On the way back to camp
+I stopped for a caribou head and skin, which I had <i>cached</i> on the
+edge of a barren the morning before. The weather had changed; a bitter
+cold wind blew after me as I turned toward camp. I carried the head
+with its branching antlers on my shoulder; the skin hung down, to keep
+my back warm, its edges trailing in the snow.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually I became convinced that something was following me; but I
+turned several times without seeing anything. "It is only a fisher," I
+thought, and kept on steadily, instead of going back to examine my
+trail; for I was hoping for a glimpse of the cunning creature whose
+trail you find so often running side by side with your own, and who
+follows you if you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> any trace of game about you, hour after hour
+through the wilderness, without ever showing himself in the light.
+Then I whirled suddenly, obeying an impulse; and there was Upweekis, a
+big, savage-looking fellow, just gliding up on my trail in plain
+sight, following the broad snowshoe track and the scent of the fresh
+caribou skin without difficulty, poor trailer though he be.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped and sat down on his feet, as a lucivee generally does when
+you surprise him, and stared at me steadily. When I went on again I
+knew that he was after me, though he had disappeared from the trail.</p>
+
+<p>Then began a double-quick of four miles, the object being to reach
+camp before night should fall and give the lucivee the advantage. It
+was already late enough to make one a bit uneasy. He knew that I was
+hurrying he grew bolder, showing himself openly on the trail behind
+me. I turned into an old swamping road, which gave me a bit of open
+before and behind. Then I saw him occasionally on either side, or
+crouching half hid until I passed. Clearly he was waiting for night;
+but to this day I am not sure whether it was the man or the caribou
+skin upon which he had set his heart. The scent of flesh and blood was
+in his nose, and he was too hungry to control himself much longer.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span></p>
+
+<p>I cut a good club with my big jack-knife, and, watching my chance,
+threw off the caribou head and jumped for him as he crouched in the
+snow. He leaped aside untouched, but crouched again instantly, showing
+all his teeth, snarling horribly. Three times I swung at him warily.
+Each time he jumped aside and watched for his opening; but I kept the
+club in play before his eyes, and it was not yet dark enough. Then I
+yelled in his face, to teach him fear, and went on again.</p>
+
+<p>Near camp I shouted for Simmo to bring my rifle; but he was slow in
+understanding, and his answering shout alarmed the savage creature
+near me. His movements became instantly more wary, more hidden. He
+left the open trail; and once, when I saw him well behind me, his head
+was raised high, listening. I threw down the caribou head to keep him
+busy, and ran for camp. In a few minutes I was stealing back again
+with my rifle; but Upweekis had felt the change in the situation and
+was again among the shadows, where he belongs. I lost his trail in the
+darkening woods.</p>
+
+<p>There was another lynx which showed me, one day, a different side to
+Upweekis' nature. It was in summer, when every creature in the
+wilderness seems an altogether different creature from the one you
+knew last winter, with new habits, new duties, new pleasures, and even
+a new coat to hide him better from his enemies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> Opposite my island
+camp, where I halted a little while, in a summer's roving, was a
+burned ridge; that is, it had been burned over years before; now it
+was a perfect tangle, with many an open sunny spot, however, where
+berries grew by handfuls. Rabbits swarmed there, and grouse were
+plenty. As it was forty miles back from the settlements, it seemed a
+perfect place for Upweekis to make a den in. And so it was. I have no
+doubt there were a dozen litters of kittens on that two miles of
+ridge; but the cover was so dense that nothing smaller than a deer
+could be seen moving.</p>
+
+<p>For two weeks I hunted the ridge whenever I was not fishing, stealing
+in and out among the thickets, depending more upon ears than eyes, but
+seeing nothing of Upweekis, save here and there a trampled fern, or a
+blood-splashed leaf, with a bit of rabbit fur, or a great round cat
+track, to tell the story. Once I came upon a bear and two cubs among
+the berries; and once, when the wind was blowing down the hill, I
+walked almost up to a bull caribou without seeing him. He was watching
+my approach curiously, only his eyes, ears, and horns showing above
+the tangle where he stood. Down in the coverts it was always intensely
+still, with a stillness that I took good care not to break. So when
+the great brute whirled with a snort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> and a tremendous crash of
+bushes, almost under my nose, it raised my hair for a moment, not
+knowing what the creature was, nor which way he was heading. But
+though every day brought its experience, and its knowledge, and its
+new wonder at the ways of wild things, I found no trace of the den,
+nor of the kittens I had hoped to watch. All animals are silent near
+their little ones, so there was never a cry by night or day to guide
+me.</p>
+
+<p>Late one afternoon, when I had climbed to the top of the ridge and was
+on my way back to camp, I ran into an odor, the strong, disagreeable
+odor that always hovers about the den of a carnivorous animal. I
+followed it through a thicket, and came to an open stony place, with a
+sharp drop of five or six feet to dense cover below. The odor came
+from this cover, so I jumped down; when&mdash;<i>yeow, karrrr, pft-pft!</i>
+Almost under my feet a gray thing leaped away snarling, followed by
+another. I had the merest glimpse of them; but from the way they
+bristled and spit and arched their backs, I knew that I had stumbled
+upon a pair of the lynx kittens, for which I had searched so long in
+vain.</p>
+
+<p>They had, probably, been lying out on the warm stones, until, hearing
+strange footsteps, they had glided away to cover. When I crashed down
+near them <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> they had been scared into showing their temper; else I had
+never seen them in the underbrush. Fortunately for me, the fierce old
+mother was away. Had she been there, I should undoubtedly have had
+more serious business on hand than watching her kittens.</p>
+
+<p>They had not seen more of me than my shoes and stockings; so when I
+stole after them, to see what they were like, they were waiting under
+a bush to see what I was like. They jumped away again, spitting,
+without seeing me, alarmed by the rustle which I could not avoid
+making in the cover. So I followed them, just a quiver of leaves here,
+a snarl there, and then a rush away, until they doubled back towards
+the rocky place, where, parting the underbrush cautiously, I saw a
+dark hole among the rocks of a little opening. The roots of an
+upturned tree arched over the hole, making a broad doorway. In this
+doorway stood two half-grown lucivees, fuzzy and gray and
+savage-looking, their backs still up, their wild eyes turned in my
+direction apprehensively. Seeing me they drew farther back into the
+den, and I saw nothing more of them save now and then their round
+heads, or the fire in their yellow eyes.</p>
+
+<p>It was too late for further observation that day. The fierce old
+mother lynx would presently be back; they would let her know of the
+intruder in some way;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> and they would all keep close in the den. I
+found a place, some dozen yards above, where it would be possible to
+watch them, marked the spot by a blasted stub, to which I made a
+compass of broken twigs; and then went back to camp.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning I omitted the early fishing, and was back at the place
+before the sun looked over the ridge. Their den was all quiet, in deep
+shadow. Mother Lynx was still away on the early hunting. I intended to
+kill her when she came back. My rifle lay ready across my knees. Then
+I would watch the kittens a little while, and kill them also. I wanted
+their skins, all soft and fine with their first fur. And they were too
+big and fierce to think of taking them alive. My vacation was over.
+Simmo was already packing up, to break camp that morning. So there
+would be no time to carry out my long-cherished plan of watching young
+lynxes at play, as I had before watched young foxes and bears and owls
+and fish-hawks, and indeed almost everything, except Upweekis, in the
+wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>Presently one of the lucivees came out, yawned, stretched, raised
+himself against a root. In the morning stillness I could hear the cut
+and rip of his claws on the wood. We call the action sharpening the
+claws; but it is only the occasional exercise of the fine flexor
+muscles that a cat uses so seldom, yet must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> use powerfully when the
+time comes. The second lucivee came out of the shadow a moment later
+and leaped upon the fallen tree where he could better watch the
+hillside below. For half an hour or more, while I waited expectantly,
+both animals moved restlessly about the den, or climbed over the roots
+and trunk of the fallen tree. They were plainly cross; they made no
+attempt at play, but kept well away from each other with a wholesome
+respect for teeth and claws and temper. Breakfast hour was long past,
+evidently, and they were hungry.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly one, who was at that moment watching from the tree trunk,
+leaped down; the second joined him, and both paced back and forth
+excitedly. They had heard the sounds of a coming that were too fine
+for my ears. A stir in the underbrush, and Mother Lynx, a great savage
+creature, stalked out proudly. She carried a dead hare gripped across
+the middle of the back. The long ears on one side, the long legs on
+the other, hung limply, showing a fresh kill. She walked to the
+doorway of her den, crossed it back and forth two or three times,
+still carrying the hare as if the lust of blood were raging within her
+and she could not drop her prey even to her own little ones, which
+followed her hungrily, one on either side. Once, as she turned toward
+me, one of the kittens seized a leg of the hare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> and jerked it
+savagely. The mother whirled on him, growling deep down in her throat;
+the youngster backed away, scared but snarling. At last she flung the
+game down. The kittens fell upon it like furies, growling at each
+other, as I had seen the stranger lynxes growling once before over the
+caribou. In a moment they had torn the carcass apart and were
+crouched, each one over his piece, gnarling like a cat over a rat, and
+stuffing themselves greedily in utter forgetfulness of the mother
+lynx, which lay under a bush some distance away and watched them.</p>
+
+<p>In a half hour the savage meal was over. The little ones sat up,
+licked their chops, and began to tongue their broad paws. The mother
+had been blinking sleepily; now she rose and came to her young. A
+change had come over the family. The kittens ran to meet the dam as if
+they had not seen her before, rubbing softly against her legs, or
+sitting up to rub their whiskers against hers&mdash;a tardy thanks for the
+breakfast she had provided. The fierce old mother too seemed
+altogether different. She arched her back against the roots, purring
+loudly, while the little ones arched and purred against her sides.
+Then she bent her savage head and licked them fondly with her tongue,
+while they rubbed as close to her as they could get, passing between
+her legs as under a bridge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> and trying to lick her face in return;
+till all their tongues were going at once and the family lay down
+together.</p>
+
+<p>It was time to kill them now. The rifle lay ready. But a change had
+come over the watcher too. Hitherto he had seen Upweekis as a
+ferocious brute, whom it was good to kill. This was altogether
+different. Upweekis could be gentle also, it seemed, and give herself
+for her little ones. And a bit of tenderness, like that which lay so
+unconscious under my eyes, gets hold of a man, and spikes his guns
+better than moralizing. So the watcher stole away, making as little
+noise as he could, following his compass of twigs to where the canoes
+lay ready and Simmo was waiting.</p>
+
+<p>Sometime, I hope, Simmo and I will camp there again, in winter. And
+then I shall listen with a new interest for a cry in the night which
+tells me that Moktaques the rabbit is hiding close at hand in the
+snow, where a young lynx of my acquaintance cannot find him.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p>
+<h2><a name="VIII_HUKWEEM_THE_NIGHT_VOICE" id="VIII_HUKWEEM_THE_NIGHT_VOICE"></a>VIII. HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE.</h2>
+
+<div class="floatl">
+      <img src="images/image14.jpg"
+      height="440"
+      width="300"
+      alt="Hukweem"
+      title="Hukweem"  />
+</div>
+
+<p>Hukweem the loon must go through the world crying for what he never
+gets, and searching for one whom he never finds; for he is the
+hunting-dog of Clote Scarpe. So said Simmo to me one night in
+explaining why the loon's cry is so wild and sad.</p>
+
+<p>Clote Scarpe, by the way, is the legendary hero, the Hiawatha of the
+northern Indians. Long ago he lived on the Wollastook, and ruled the
+animals, which all lived peaceably together, understanding each
+other's language, and "nobody ever ate anybody," as Simmo says. But
+when Clote Scarpe went away they quarreled, and Lhoks the panther and
+Nemox the fisher took to killing the other animals. Malsun the wolf
+soon followed, and ate all he killed; and Meeko the squirrel, who
+always makes all the mischief he can, set even the peaceable animals
+by the ears, so that they feared and distrusted each other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> Then they
+scattered through the big woods, living each one for himself; and now
+the strong ones kill the weak, and nobody understands anybody any
+more.</p>
+
+<p>There were no dogs in those days. Hukweem was Clote Scarpe's hunting
+companion when he hunted the great evil beasts that disturbed the
+wilderness; and Hukweem alone, of all the birds and animals, remained
+true to his master. For hunting makes strong friendship, says Simmo;
+and that is true. Therefore does Hukweem go through the world, looking
+for his master and calling him to come back. Over the tree-tops, when
+he flies low looking for new waters; high in air, out of sight, on his
+southern migrations; and on every lake where he is only a voice, the
+sad night voice of the vast solitary unknown wilderness&mdash;everywhere
+you hear him seeking. Even on the seacoast in winter, where he knows
+Clote Scarpe cannot be&mdash;for Clote Scarpe hates the sea&mdash;Hukweem
+forgets himself, and cries occasionally out of pure loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>When I asked what Hukweem says when he cries&mdash;for all cries of the
+wilderness have their interpretation&mdash;Simmo answered: "Wy, he say two
+ting. First he say, <i>Where are you? O where are you</i>? Dass what you
+call-um his laugh, like he crazy. Denn, wen nobody answer, he say, <i>O
+I so sorry, so sorry</i>!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span><i>Ooooo-eee</i>! like woman lost in woods.
+An' dass his tother cry."</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+   <a href="images/image15h.jpg" >
+     <img src="images/image15.jpg"
+        width="402" height="562"
+        alt="Hukweem"
+        title="Hukweem" />
+   </a>
+</div>
+
+<p>This comes nearer to explaining the wild unearthliness of Hukweem's
+call than anything else I know. It makes things much simpler to
+understand, when you are camped deep in the wilderness, and the night
+falls, and out of the misty darkness under the farther shore comes a
+wild shivering call that makes one's nerves tingle till he finds out
+about it&mdash;<i>Where are you? O where are you?</i> That is just like Hukweem.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, however, he varies the cry, and asks very plainly: "Who are
+you? O who are you?" There was a loon on the Big Squattuk lake, where
+I camped one summer, which was full of inquisitiveness as a blue jay.
+He lived alone at one end of the lake, while his mate, with her brood
+of two, lived at the other end, nine miles away. Every morning and
+evening he came close to my camp&mdash;very much nearer than is usual, for
+loons are wild and shy in the wilderness&mdash;to cry out his challenge.
+Once, late at night, I flashed a lantern at the end of the old log
+that served as a landing for the canoes, where I had heard strange
+ripples; and there was Hukweem, examining everything with the greatest
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Every unusual thing in our doings made him inquisitive to know all
+about it. Once, when I started<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> down the lake with a fair wind, and a
+small spruce set up in the bow of my canoe for a sail, he followed me
+four or five miles, calling all the way. And when I came back to camp
+at twilight with a big bear in the canoe, his shaggy head showing over
+the bow, and his legs up over the middle thwart, like a little old
+black man with his wrinkled feet on the table, Hukweem's curiosity
+could stand it no longer. He swam up within twenty yards, and circled
+the canoe half a dozen times, sitting up straight on his tail by a
+vigorous use of his wings, stretching his neck like an inquisitive
+duck, so as to look into the canoe and see what queer thing I had
+brought with me.</p>
+
+<p>He had another curious habit which afforded him unending amusement.
+There was a deep bay on the west shore of the lake, with hills rising
+abruptly on three sides. The echo here was remarkable; a single shout
+brought a dozen distinct answers, and then a confusion of tongues as
+the echoes and re-echoes from many hills met and mingled. I discovered
+the place in an interesting way.</p>
+
+<p>One evening at twilight, as I was returning to camp from exploring the
+upper lake, I heard a wild crying of loons on the west side. There
+seemed to be five or six of the great divers, all laughing and
+shrieking like so many lunatics. Pushing over to investigate, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> noticed for the first time the entrance to a great bay, and paddled up
+cautiously behind a point, so as to surprise the loons at their game.
+For they play games, just as crows do. But when I looked in, there was
+only one bird, Hukweem the Inquisitive. I knew him instantly by his
+great size and beautiful markings. He would give a single sharp call,
+and listen intently, with head up, swinging from side to side as the
+separate echoes came ringing back from the hills. Then he would try
+his cackling laugh, <i>Ooo-&aacute;h-ha-ha-ha-hoo, ooo-&aacute;h-ha-ha-ha-hoo</i>, and as
+the echoes began to ring about his head he would get excited, sitting
+up on his tail, flapping his wings, cackling and shrieking with glee
+at his own performance. Every wild syllable was flung back like a shot
+from the surrounding hills, till the air seemed full of loons, all
+mingling their crazy cachinnations with the din of the chief
+performer. The uproar made one shiver. Then Hukweem would cease
+suddenly, listening intently to the warring echoes. Before the
+confusion was half ended he would get excited again, and swim about in
+small circles, spreading wings and tail, showing his fine feathers as
+if every echo were an admiring loon, pleased as a peacock with himself
+at having made such a noise in a quiet world.</p>
+
+<p>There was another loon, a mother bird, on a different lake, whose two
+eggs had been carried off by a thieving <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> muskrat; but she did not know
+who did it, for Musquash knows how to roll the eggs into water and
+carry them off, before eating, where the mother bird will not find the
+shells. She came swimming down to meet us the moment our canoe entered
+the lake; and what she seemed to cry was, "Where are they? O where are
+they?" She followed us across the lake, accusing us of robbery, and
+asking the same question over and over.</p>
+
+<p>But whatever the meaning of Hukweem's crying, it seems to constitute a
+large part of his existence. Indeed, it is as a cry that he is chiefly
+known&mdash;the wild, unearthly cry of the wilderness night. His education
+for this begins very early. Once I was exploring the grassy shores of
+a wild lake when a mother loon appeared suddenly, out in the middle,
+with a great splashing and crying. I paddled out to see what was the
+matter. She withdrew with a great effort, apparently, as I approached,
+still crying loudly and beating the water with her wings. "Oho," I
+said, "you have a nest in there somewhere, and now you are trying to
+get me away from it." This was the only time I have ever known a loon
+to try that old mother bird's trick. Generally they slip off the nest
+while the canoe is yet half a mile away, and swim under water a long
+distance, and watch you silently from the other side of the lake.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p>
+
+<p>I went back and hunted awhile for the nest among the bogs of a little
+bay; then left the search to investigate a strange call that sounded
+continuously farther up the shore. It came from some hidden spot in
+the tall grass, an eager little whistling cry, reminding me somehow of
+a nest of young fish-hawks.</p>
+
+<p>As I waded cautiously among the bogs, trying to locate the sound, I
+came suddenly upon the loon's nest&mdash;just the bare top of a bog, where
+the mother bird had pulled up the grass and hollowed the earth enough
+to keep the eggs from rolling out. They were there on the bare ground,
+two very large olive eggs with dark blotches. I left them undisturbed
+and went on to investigate the crying, which had stopped a moment as I
+approached the nest.</p>
+
+<p>Presently it began again behind me, faint at first, then louder and
+more eager, till I traced it back to Hukweem's household. But there
+was nothing here to account for it, only two innocent-looking eggs on
+top of a bog. I bent over to examine them more closely. There, on the
+sides, were two holes, and out of the holes projected the points of
+two tiny bills. Inside were two little loons, crying at the top of
+their lungs, "Let me out! O let me out! It's hot in here. Let me
+out&mdash;<i>Oooo-eee! pip-pip-pip</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>But I left the work of release to the mother bird,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> thinking she knew
+more about it. Next day I went back to the place, and, after much
+watching, saw two little loons stealing in and out among the bogs,
+exulting in their freedom, but silent as two shadows. The mother bird
+was off on the lake, fishing for their dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Hukweem's fishing is always an interesting thing to watch.
+Unfortunately he is so shy that one seldom gets a good opportunity.
+Once I found his favorite fishing ground, and came every day to watch
+him from a thicket on the shore. It was of little use to go in a
+canoe. At my approach he would sink deeper and deeper in the water, as
+if taking in ballast. How he does this is a mystery; for his body is
+much lighter than its bulk of water. Dead or alive, it floats like a
+cork; yet without any perceptible motion, by an effort of will
+apparently, he sinks it out of sight. You are approaching in your
+canoe, and he moves off slowly, swinging his head from side to side so
+as to look at you first with one eye, then with the other. Your canoe
+is swift; he sees that you are gaining, that you are already too near.
+He swings on the water, and sits watching you steadily. Suddenly he
+begins to sink, deeper and deeper, till his back is just awash. Go a
+little nearer, and now his body disappears; only his neck and head
+remain above water. Raise your hand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> or make any quick motion, and he
+is gone altogether. He dives like a flash, swims deep and far, and
+when he comes to the surface will be well out of danger.</p>
+
+<p>If you notice the direction of his bill as it enters the water, you
+can tell fairly well about where he will come up again. It was
+confusing at first, in chasing him, to find that he rarely came up
+where he was expected. I would paddle hard in the direction he was
+going, only to find him far to the right or left, or behind me, when
+at last he showed himself. That was because I followed his body, not
+his bill. Moving in one direction, he will turn his head and dive.
+That is to mislead you, if you are following him. Follow his bill, as
+he does himself, and you will be near him when he rises; for he rarely
+turns under water.</p>
+
+<p>With two good men to paddle, it is not difficult to tire him out.
+Though he swims with extraordinary rapidity under water&mdash;fast enough
+to follow and catch a trout&mdash;a long deep dive tires him, and he must
+rest before another. If you are chasing him, shout and wave your hat
+the moment he appears, and paddle hard the way his bill points as he
+dives again. The next time he comes up you are nearer to him. Send him
+down again quick, and after him. The next time he is frightened to see
+the canoe so close, and dives deep, which tires him the more. So his
+disappearances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> become shorter and more confused; you follow him more
+surely because you can see him plainly now as he goes down. Suddenly
+he bursts out of water beside you, scattering the spray into your
+canoe. Once he came up under my paddle, and I plucked a feather from
+his back before he got away.</p>
+
+<p>This last appearance always scares him out of his wits, and you get
+what you have been working hard for&mdash;a sight of Hukweem getting under
+way. Away he goes in a smother of spray, beating the water with his
+wings, kicking hard to lift himself up; and so for a hundred yards,
+leaving a wake like a stern-wheel steamer, till he gathers headway
+enough to rise from the water.</p>
+
+<p>After that first start there is no sign of awkwardness. His short
+wings rise and fall with a rapidity that tries the eye to follow, like
+the rush of a coot down wind to decoys. You can hear the swift, strong
+beat of them, far over your head, when he is not calling. His flight
+is very rapid, very even, and often at enormous altitudes. But when he
+wants to come down he always gets frightened, thinking of his short
+wings, and how high he is, and how fast he is going. On the ocean, in
+winter, where he has all the room he wants, he sometimes comes down in
+a great incline, miles long, and plunges through and over a dozen <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> waves, like a dolphin, before he can stop. But where the lake is
+small, and he cannot come down that way, he has a dizzy time of it.</p>
+
+<p>Once, on a little lake in September, I used to watch for hours to get
+a sight of the process. Twelve or fifteen loons were gathered there,
+holding high carnival. They called down every migrating loon that
+passed that way; their numbers increased daily. Twilight was the
+favorite time for arriving. In the stillness I would hear Hukweem far
+away, so high that he was only a voice. Presently I would see him
+whirling over the lake in a great circle.&mdash;"Come down, O come down,"
+cry all the loons. "I'm afraid, <i>ooo-ho-ho-ho-ho-hoooo-eee</i>, I'm
+afraid," says Hukweem, who is perhaps a little loon, all the way from
+Labrador on his first migration, and has never come down from a height
+before. "Come on, O come <i>oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-hon</i>. It won't hurt you; we
+did it; come on," cry all the loons.</p>
+
+<p>Then Hukweem would slide lower with each circle, whirling round and
+round the lake in a great spiral, yelling all the time, and all the
+loons answering. When low enough, he would set his wings and plunge
+like a catapult at the very midst of the assembly, which scattered
+wildly, yelling like schoolboys&mdash;"Look out! he'll break his neck;
+he'll hit <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> you; he'll break your back if he hits you."&mdash;So they
+splashed away in a desperate fright, each one looking back over his
+shoulder to see Hukweem come down, which he would do at a terrific
+pace, striking the water with a mighty splash, and shooting half
+across the lake in a smother of white, before he could get his legs
+under him and turn around. Then all the loons would gather round him,
+cackling, shrieking, laughing, with such a din as the little loon
+never heard in his life before; and he would go off in the midst of
+them, telling them, no doubt, what a mighty thing it was to come down
+from so high and not break his neck.</p>
+
+<p>A little later in the fall I saw those same loons do an astonishing
+thing. For several evenings they had been keeping up an unusual racket
+in a quiet bay, out of sight of my camp. I asked Simmo what he thought
+they were doing.&mdash;"O, I don' know, playin' game, I guess, jus' like
+one boy. Hukweem do dat sometime, wen he not hungry," said Simmo,
+going on with his bean-cooking. That excited my curiosity; but when I
+reached the bay it was too dark to see what they were playing.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, when I was fishing at the inlet, the racket was different
+from any I had heard before. There would be an interval of perfect
+silence, broken suddenly by wild yelling; then the ordinary loon talk <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> for a few minutes, and another silence, broken by a shriller outcry.
+That meant that something unusual was going on, so I left the trout,
+to find out about it.</p>
+
+<p>When I pushed my canoe through the fringe of water-grass on the point
+nearest the loons, they were scattered in a long line, twelve or
+fifteen of them, extending from the head of the bay to a point nearly
+opposite me. At the other end of the line two loons were swimming
+about, doing something which I could not make out. Suddenly the loon
+talk ceased. There may have been a signal given, which I did not hear.
+Anyway, the two loons faced about at the same moment and came tearing
+down the line, using wings and feet to help in the race. The upper
+loons swung in behind them as they passed, so as to watch the finish
+better; but not a sound was heard till they passed my end of the line
+in a close, hard race, one scarcely a yard ahead of the other, when
+such a yelling began as I never heard before. All the loons gathered
+about the two swimmers; there was much cackling and crying, which grew
+gradually quieter; then they began to string out in another long line,
+and two more racers took their places at one end of it. By that time
+it was almost dark, and I broke up the race trying to get nearer in my
+canoe so as to watch things better.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> Twice since then I have heard
+from summer campers of their having seen loons racing across a lake. I
+have no doubt it is a frequent pastime with the birds when the summer
+cares for the young are ended, and autumn days are mellow, and fish
+are plenty, and there are long hours just for fun together, before
+Hukweem moves southward for the hard solitary winter life on the
+seacoast.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the loons that cried out to me in the night, or shared the
+summer lakes with me, only one ever gave me the opportunity of
+watching at close quarters. It was on a very wild lake, so wild that
+no one had ever visited it before in summer, and a mother loon felt
+safe in leaving the open shore, where she generally nests, and placing
+her eggs on a bog at the head of a narrow bay. I found them there a
+day or two after my arrival.</p>
+
+<p>I used to go at all hours of the day, hoping the mother would get used
+to me and my canoe, so that I could watch her later, teaching her
+little ones; but her wildness was unconquerable. Whenever I came in
+sight of the nest-bog, with only the loon's neck and head visible,
+standing up very straight and still in the grass, I would see her slip
+from the nest, steal away through the green cover to a deep place, and
+glide under water without leaving a ripple. Then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> looking sharp over
+the side into the clear water, I would get a glimpse of her, just a
+gray streak with a string of silver bubbles, passing deep and swift
+under my canoe. So she went through the opening, and appeared far out
+in the lake, where she would swim back and forth, as if fishing, until
+I went away. As I never disturbed her nest, and always paddled away
+soon, she thought undoubtedly that she had fooled me, and that I knew
+nothing about her or her nest.</p>
+
+<p>Then I tried another plan. I lay down in my canoe, and had Simmo
+paddle me up to the nest. While the loon was out on the lake, hidden
+by the grassy shore, I went and sat on a bog, with a friendly alder
+bending over me, within twenty feet of the nest, which was in plain
+sight. Then Simmo paddled away, and Hukweem came back without the
+slightest suspicion. As I had supposed, from the shape of the nest,
+she did not sit on her two eggs; she sat on the bog instead, and
+gathered them close to her side with her wing. That was all the
+brooding they had, or needed; for within a week there were two bright
+little loons to watch instead of the eggs.</p>
+
+<p>After the first success I used to go alone and, while the mother bird
+was out on the lake, would pull my canoe up in the grass, a hundred
+yards or so below the nest. From here I entered the alders and made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> my way to the bog, where I could watch Hukweem at my leisure. After a
+long wait she would steal into the bay very shyly, and after much fear
+and circumspection glide up to the canoe. It took a great deal of
+looking and listening to convince her that it was harmless, and that I
+was not hiding near in the grass. Once convinced, however, she would
+come direct to the nest; and I had the satisfaction at last of
+watching a loon at close quarters.</p>
+
+<p>She would sit there for hours&mdash;never sleeping apparently, for her eye
+was always bright&mdash;preening herself, turning her head slowly, so as to
+watch on all sides, snapping now and then at an obtrusive fly, all in
+utter unconsciousness that I was just behind her, watching every
+movement. Then, when I had enough, I would steal away along a caribou
+path, and push off quietly in my canoe without looking back. She saw
+me, of course, when I entered the canoe, but not once did she leave
+the nest. When I reached the open lake, a little searching with my
+glass always showed me her head there in the grass, still turned in my
+direction apprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>I had hoped to see her let the little ones out of their hard shell,
+and see them first take the water; but that was too much to expect.
+One day I heard them whistling in the eggs; the next day, when I
+came,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> there was nothing to be seen on the nest-bog. I feared that
+something had heard their whistling and put an untimely end to the
+young Hukweems while mother bird was away. But when she came back,
+after a more fearful survey than usual of the old bark canoe, two
+downy little fellows came bobbing to meet her out of the grass, where
+she had hidden them and told them to stay till she came back.</p>
+
+<p>It was a rare treat to watch them at their first feeding, the little
+ones all eagerness, bobbing about in the delight of eating and the
+wonder of the new great world, the mother all tenderness and
+watchfulness. Hukweem had never looked to me so noble before. This
+great wild mother bird, moving ceaselessly with marvelous grace about
+her little ones, watching their play with exquisite fondness, and
+watching the great dangerous world for their sakes, now chiding them
+gently, now drawing near to touch them with her strong bill, or to rub
+their little cheeks with hers, or just to croon over them in an
+ecstasy of that wonderful mother love which makes the summer
+wilderness beautiful,&mdash;in ten minutes she upset all my theories, and
+won me altogether, spite of what I had heard and seen of her
+destructiveness on the fishing grounds. After all, why should she not
+fish as well as I? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> And then began the first lessons in swimming and
+hiding and diving, which I had waited so long to see.</p>
+
+<p>Later I saw her bring little fish, which she had slightly wounded,
+turn them loose in shallow water, and with a sharp cluck bring the
+young loons out of their hiding, to set them chasing and diving wildly
+for their own dinners. But before that happened there was almost a
+tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>One day, while the mother was gone fishing, the little ones came out
+of their hiding among the grasses, and ventured out some distance into
+the bay. It was their first journey alone into the world; they were
+full of the wonder and importance of it. Suddenly, as I watched, they
+began to dart about wildly, moving with astonishing rapidity for such
+little fellows, and whistling loudly. From the bank above, a swift
+ripple had cut out into the water between them and the only bit of bog
+with which they were familiar. Just behind the ripple were the sharp
+nose and the beady eyes of Musquash, who is always in some mischief of
+this kind. In one of his prowlings he had discovered the little brood;
+now he was man&oelig;uvering craftily to keep the frightened youngsters
+moving till they should be tired out, while he himself crept carefully
+between them and the shore.</p>
+
+<p>Musquash knows well that when a young loon, or a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> shelldrake, or a
+black duck, is caught in the open like that, he always tries to get
+back where his mother hid him when she went away. That is what the
+poor little fellows were trying to do now, only to be driven back and
+kept moving wildly by the muskrat, who lifted himself now and then
+from the water, and wiggled his ugly jaws in anticipation of the
+feast. He had missed the eggs in his search; but young loon would be
+better, and more of it.&mdash;"There you are!" he snapped viciously,
+lunging at the nearest loon, which flashed under water and barely
+escaped.</p>
+
+<p>I had started up to interfere, for I had grown fond of the little wild
+things whose growth I had watched from the beginning, when a great
+splashing began on my left, and I saw the old mother bird coming like
+a fury. She was half swimming, half flying, tearing over the water at
+a great pace, a foamy white wake behind her.&mdash;"Now, you little
+villain, take your medicine. It's coming; it's coming," I cried
+excitedly, and dodged back to watch. But Musquash, intent on his evil
+doing (he has no need whatever to turn flesh-eater), kept on viciously
+after the exhausted little ones, paying no heed to his rear.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty yards away the mother bird, to my great astonishment, flashed
+out of sight under water. What could it mean! But there was little
+time to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> wonder. Suddenly a catapult seemed to strike the muskrat from
+beneath and lift him clear from the water. With a tremendous rush and
+sputter Hukweem came out beneath him, her great pointed bill driven
+through to his spine. Little need of my help now. With another
+straight hard drive, this time at eye and brain, she flung him aside
+disdainfully and rushed to her shivering little ones, questioning,
+chiding, praising them, all in the same breath, fluttering and
+cackling low in an hysteric wave of tenderness. Then she swam twice
+around the dead muskrat and led her brood away from the place.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was to one of those same little ones that I owe a service
+for which I am more than grateful. It was in September, when I was at
+a lake ten miles away&mdash;the same lake into which a score of frolicking
+young loons gathered before moving south, and swam a race or two for
+my benefit. I was lost one day, hopelessly lost, in trying to make my
+way from a wild little lake where I had been fishing, to the large
+lake where my camp was. It was late afternoon. To avoid the long hard
+tramp down a river, up which I had come in the early morning, I
+attempted to cut across through unbroken forest without a compass.
+Traveling through a northern forest in summer is desperately hard
+work. The moss is ankle deep, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> underbrush thick; fallen logs lie
+across each other in hopeless confusion, through and under and over
+which one must make his laborious way, stung and pestered by hordes of
+black flies and mosquitoes. So that, unless you have a strong instinct
+of direction, it is almost impossible to hold your course without a
+compass, or a bright sun, to guide you.</p>
+
+<p>I had not gone half the distance before I was astray. The sun was long
+obscured, and a drizzling rain set in, without any direction whatever
+in it by the time it reached the underbrush where I was. I had begun
+to make a little shelter, intending to put in a cheerless night there,
+when I heard a cry, and looking up caught a glimpse of Hukweem
+speeding high over the tree-tops. Far down on my right came a faint
+answering cry, and I hastened in its direction, making an Indian
+compass of broken twigs as I went along. Hukweem was a young loon, and
+was long in coming down. The crying ahead grew louder. Stirred up from
+their day rest by his arrival, the other loons began their sport
+earlier than usual. The crying soon became almost continuous, and I
+followed it straight to the lake.</p>
+
+<p>Once there, it was a simple matter to find the river and my old canoe
+waiting patiently under the alders in the gathering twilight. Soon I
+was afloat again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> with a sense of unspeakable relief that only one
+can appreciate who has been lost and now hears the ripples sing under
+him, knowing that the cheerless woods lie behind, and that the
+camp-fire beckons beyond yonder point. The loons were hallooing far
+away, and I went over&mdash;this time in pure gratitude&mdash;to see them again.
+But my guide was modest and vanished post-haste into the mist the
+moment my canoe appeared.</p>
+
+<p>Since then, whenever I hear Hukweem in the night, or hear others speak
+of his unearthly laughter, I think of that cry over the tree-tops, and
+the thrilling answer far away. And the sound has a ring to it, in my
+ears, that it never had before. Hukweem the Night Voice found me
+astray in the woods, and brought me safe to a snug camp.&mdash;That is a
+service which one does not forget in the wilderness.</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span></p>
+<h3><a name="GLOSSARYOFINDIANNAMES" id="GLOSSARYOFINDIANNAMES">GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES.</a></h3>
+
+
+<div class="index">
+<ul class="IX">
+
+<li><b>Cheplahgan</b>, <i>chep-l&acirc;h&acute;-gan</i>, the bald eagle.</li>
+
+<li><b>Chigwo&ograve;ltz</b>, <i>chig-wooltz&acute;</i>, the bullfrog.</li>
+
+<li><b>Cl&oacute;te Scarpe</b>, a legendary hero, like Hiawatha, of the Northern Indians. Pronounced variously, Clote Scarpe, Groscap, Gluscap, etc.</li>
+
+<li><b>Hukweem</b>, <i>huk-weem&acute;</i>, the great northern diver, or loon.</li>
+
+<li><b>Ismaques</b>, <i>iss-m&acirc;-ques&acute;</i>, the fish-hawk.</li>
+
+<li><b>Kagax</b>, <i>k&#259;g&acute;-&#259;x</i>, the weasel.</li>
+
+<li><b>Killooleet</b>, <i>kil&acute;-loo-leet</i>, the white-throated sparrow.</li>
+
+<li><b>Kookooskoos</b>, <i>koo-koo-skoos&acute;</i>, the great horned owl.</li>
+
+<li><b>Lhoks</b>, <i>locks</i>, the panther.</li>
+
+<li><b>Malsun</b>, <i>m&#259;l&acute;-sun</i>, the wolf.</li>
+
+<li><b>Meeko</b>, <i>meek&acute;-&#333;</i>, the red squirrel.</li>
+
+<li><b>Megaleep</b>, <i>meg&acute;-&acirc;-leep</i>, the caribou.</li>
+
+<li><b>Milicete</b>, <i>mil&acute;-&#301;-cete</i>, the name of an Indian tribe; written also Malicete.</li>
+
+<li><b>Moktaques</b>, <i>mok-t&acirc;&acute;-ques</i>, the hare.</li>
+
+<li><b>Mooween</b>, <i>moo-ween&acute;</i>, the black bear.</li>
+
+<li><b>Nemox</b>, <i>n&#277;m&acute;-ox</i>, the fisher.</li>
+
+<li><b>Pekquam</b>, <i>pek-w&#259;m&acute;</i>, the fisher.</li>
+
+<li><b>Seksagadagee</b>, <i>sek&acute;-s&acirc;-g&#257;-d&acirc;&acute;-gee</i>, the grouse.</li>
+
+<li><b>Tookhees</b>, <i>t&ocirc;k&acute;-hees</i>, the wood mouse.</li>
+
+<li><b>Upweekis</b>, <i>up-week&acute;-iss</i>, the Canada lynx.</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wilderness Ways
+
+Author: William J Long
+
+Illustrator: Charles Copeland
+
+Release Date: May 31, 2005 [EBook #15950]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILDERNESS WAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ted Garvin, Melissa Er-Raqabi, Sankar
+Viswanathan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: frontispiece]
+
+
+
+                            WILDERNESS WAYS
+
+                                   BY
+
+                            WILLIAM J. LONG
+
+
+
+                            _SECOND SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+                            BOSTON, U.S.A.
+
+                      GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
+
+                          The Athenaeum Press
+
+                                 1900
+
+
+
+
+TO KILLOOLEET, Little Sweet-Voice,
+who shares my camp and
+makes sunshine as I work and play.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+     The following sketches, like the "Ways of Wood Folk," are the
+     result of many years of personal observation in the woods and
+     fields. They are studies of animals, pure and simple, not of
+     animals with human motives and imaginations.
+
+     Indeed, it is hardly necessary for genuine interest to give human
+     traits to the beasts. Any animal is interesting enough as an
+     animal, and has character enough of his own, without borrowing
+     anything from man--as one may easily find out by watching long
+     enough.
+
+     Most wild creatures have but small measure of gentleness in them,
+     and that only by instinct and at short stated seasons. Hence I
+     have given both sides and both kinds, the shadows and lights, the
+     savagery as well as the gentleness of the wilderness creatures.
+
+     It were pleasanter, to be sure, especially when you have been
+     deeply touched by some exquisite bit of animal devotion, to let
+     it go at that, and to carry with you henceforth an ideal
+     creature.
+
+     But the whole truth is better--better for you, better for
+     children--else personality becomes confused with mere animal
+     individuality, and love turns to instinct, and sentiment
+     vaporizes into sentimentality.
+
+     This mother fox or fish-hawk here, this strong mother loon or
+     lynx that to-day brings the quick moisture to your eyes by her
+     utter devotion to the little helpless things which great Mother
+     Nature gave her to care for, will to-morrow, when they are grown,
+     drive those same little ones with savage treatment into the world
+     to face its dangers alone, and will turn away from their
+     sufferings thereafter with astounding indifference.
+
+     It is well to remember this, and to give proper weight to the
+     word, when we speak of the _love_ of animals for their little
+     ones.
+
+     I met a bear once--but this foolish thing is not to be
+     imitated--with two small cubs following at her heels. The mother
+     fled into the brush; the cubs took to a tree. After some timorous
+     watching I climbed after the cubs, and shook them off, and put
+     them into a bag, and carried them to my canoe, squealing and
+     appealing to the one thing in the woods that could easily have
+     helped them. I was ready enough to quit all claims and to take to
+     the brush myself upon inducement. But the mother had found a
+     blueberry patch and was stuffing herself industriously.
+
+     And I have seen other mother bears since then, and foxes and deer
+     and ducks and sparrows, and almost all the wild creatures
+     between, driving their own offspring savagely away. Generally
+     the young go of their own accord as early as possible, knowing no
+     affection but only dependence, and preferring liberty to
+     authority; but more than once I have been touched by the sight of
+     a little one begging piteously to be fed or just to stay, while
+     the mother drove him away impatiently. Moreover, they all kill
+     their weaklings, as a rule, and the burdensome members of too
+     large a family. This is not poetry or idealization, but just
+     plain animal nature.
+
+     As for the male animals, little can be said truthfully for their
+     devotion. Father fox and wolf, instead of caring for their mates
+     and their offspring, as we fondly imagine, live apart by
+     themselves in utter selfishness. They do nothing whatever for the
+     support or instruction of the young, and are never suffered by
+     the mothers to come into the den, lest they destroy their own
+     little ones. One need not go to the woods to see this; his own
+     stable or kennel, his own dog or cat will be likely to reveal the
+     startling brutality at the first good opportunity.
+
+     An indiscriminate love for all animals, likewise, is not the best
+     sentiment to cultivate toward creation. Black snakes in a land of
+     birds, sharks in the bluefish rips, rabbits in Australia, and
+     weasels everywhere are out of place in the present economy of
+     nature. Big owls and hawks, representing a yearly destruction of
+     thousands of good game birds and of untold innocent songsters,
+     may also be profitably studied with a gun sometimes instead of
+     an opera-glass. A mink is good for nothing but his skin; a red
+     squirrel--I hesitate to tell his true character lest I spoil too
+     many tender but false ideals about him all at once.
+
+     The point is this, that sympathy is too true a thing to be
+     aroused falsely, and that a wise discrimination, which recognizes
+     good and evil in the woods, as everywhere else in the world, and
+     which loves the one and hates the other, is vastly better for
+     children, young and old, than the blind sentimentality aroused by
+     ideal animals with exquisite human propensities. Therefore I
+     wrote the story of Kagax, simply to show him as he is, and so to
+     make you hate him.
+
+     In this one chapter, the story of Kagax the Weasel, I have
+     gathered into a single animal the tricks and cruelties of a score
+     of vicious little brutes that I have caught red-handed at their
+     work. In the other chapters I have, for the most part, again
+     searched my old notebooks and the records of wilderness camps,
+     and put the individual animals down just as I found them.
+
+
+
+                                             Wm. J. Long.
+
+      Stamford, September, 1900.
+
+
+
+
+                         CONTENTS.
+
+
+
+
+I. MEGALEEP THE WANDERER
+
+II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE
+
+III. KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY
+
+IV. KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT
+
+V. CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG
+
+VI. CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE
+
+VII. UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW
+
+VIII. HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE
+
+
+GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+I. MEGALEEP THE WANDERER.
+
+[Illustration: Megaleep]
+
+
+Megaleep is the big woodland caribou of the northern wilderness. His
+Milicete name means The Wandering One, but it ought to mean the
+Mysterious and the Changeful as well. If you hear that he is bold and
+fearless, that is true; and if you are told that he is shy and wary
+and inapproachable, that is also true. For he is never the same two
+days in succession. At once shy and bold, solitary and gregarious;
+restless as a cloud, yet clinging to his feeding grounds, spite of
+wolves and hunters, till he leaves them of his own free will; wild as
+Kakagos the raven, but inquisitive as a blue jay,--he is the most
+fascinating and the least known of all the deer.
+
+One thing is quite sure, before you begin your study: he is never
+where his tracks are, nor anywhere near it. And if after a season's
+watching and following you catch one good glimpse of him, that is a
+good beginning.
+
+I had always heard and read of Megaleep as an awkward, ungainly
+animal, but almost my first glimpse of him scattered all that to the
+winds and set my nerves a-tingling in a way that they still remember.
+It was on a great chain of barrens in the New Brunswick wilderness. I
+was following the trail of a herd of caribou one day, when far ahead a
+strange clacking sound came ringing across the snow in the crisp
+winter air. I ran ahead to a point of woods that cut off my view from
+a five-mile barren, only to catch breath in astonishment and drop to
+cover behind a scrub spruce. Away up the barren my caribou, a big herd
+of them, were coming like an express train straight towards me. At
+first I could make out only a great cloud of steam, a whirl of flying
+snow, and here and there the angry shake of wide antlers or the gleam
+of a black muzzle. The loud clacking of their hoofs, sweeping nearer
+and nearer, gave a snap, a tingle, a wild exhilaration to their rush
+which made one want to shout and swing his hat. Presently I could make
+out the individual animals through the cloud of vapor that drove down
+the wind before them. They were going at a splendid trot, rocking
+easily from side to side like pacing colts, power, grace, tirelessness
+in every stride. Their heads were high, their muzzles up, the antlers
+well back on heaving shoulders. Jets of steam burst from their
+nostrils at every bound; for the thermometer was twenty below zero,
+and the air snapping. A cloud of snow whirled out and up behind them;
+through it the antlers waved like bare oak boughs in the wind; the
+sound of their hoofs was like the clicking of mighty castanets--"Oh
+for a sledge and bells!" I thought; for Santa Claus never had such a
+team.
+
+So they came on swiftly, magnificently, straight on to the cover
+behind which I crouched with nerves thrilling as at a cavalry
+charge,--till I sprang to my feet with a shout and swung my hat; for,
+as there was meat enough in camp, I had small wish to use my rifle,
+and no desire whatever to stand that rush at close quarters and be run
+down. There was a moment of wild confusion out on the barren just in
+front of me. The long swinging trot, that caribou never change if they
+can help it, was broken into an awkward jumping gallop. The front rank
+reared, plunged, snorted a warning, but were forced onward by the
+pressure behind. Then the leading bulls gave a few mighty bounds which
+brought them close up to me, but left a clear space for the
+frightened, crowding animals behind. The swiftest shot ahead to the
+lead; the great herd lengthened out from its compact mass; swerved
+easily to the left, as at a word of command; crashed through the
+fringe of evergreen in which I had been hiding,--out into the open
+again with a wild plunge and a loud cracking of hoofs, where they all
+settled into their wonderful trot again, and kept on steadily across
+the barren below.
+
+That was the sight of a lifetime. One who saw it could never again
+think of caribou as ungainly animals.
+
+Megaleep belongs to the tribe of Ishmael. Indeed, his Latin name, as
+well as his Indian one, signifies The Wanderer; and if you watch him a
+little while you will understand perfectly why he is called so. The
+first time I ever met him in summer, in strong contrast to the winter
+herd, made his name clear in a moment. It was twilight on a wilderness
+lake. I was sitting in my canoe by the inlet, wondering what kind of
+bait to use for a big trout which lived in an eddy behind a rock, and
+which disdained everything I offered him. The swallows were busy,
+skimming low, and taking the young mosquitoes as they rose from the
+water. One dipped to the surface near the eddy. As he came down I saw
+a swift gleam in the depths below. He touched the water; there was a
+swirl, a splash--and the swallow was gone. The trout had him.
+
+Then a cow caribou came out of the woods onto the grassy point above
+me to drink. First she wandered all over the point, making it look
+afterwards as if a herd had passed. Then she took a sip of water by a
+rock, crossed to my side of the point, and took a sip there; then to
+the end of the point, and another sip; then back to the first place. A
+nibble of grass, and she waded far out from shore to sip there; then
+back, with a nod to a lily pad, and a sip nearer the brook. Finally
+she meandered a long way up the shore out of sight, and when I picked
+up the paddle to go, she came back again. Truly a _Wandergeist_ of the
+woods, like the plover of the coast, who never knows what he wants,
+nor why he circles about so, nor where he is going next.
+
+If you follow the herds over the barrens and through the forest in
+winter, you find the same wandering, unsatisfied creature. And if you
+are a sportsman and a keen hunter, with well established ways of
+trailing and stalking, you will be driven to desperation a score of
+times before you get acquainted with Megaleep. He travels enormous
+distances without any known object. His trail is everywhere; he is
+himself nowhere. You scour the country for a week, crossing
+innumerable trails, thinking the surrounding woods must be full of
+caribou; then a man in a lumber camp, where you are overtaken by
+night, tells you that he saw the herd you are after 'way down on the
+Renous barrens, thirty miles below. You go there, and have the same
+experience,--signs everywhere, old signs, new signs, but never a
+caribou. And, ten to one, while you are there, the caribou are
+sniffing your snowshoe track suspiciously back on the barrens that you
+have just left.
+
+Even in feeding, when you are hot on their trail and steal forward
+expecting to see them every moment, it is the same exasperating story.
+They dig a hole through four feet of packed snow to nibble the
+reindeer lichen that grows everywhere on the barrens. Before it is
+half eaten they wander off to the next barren and dig a larger hole;
+then away to the woods for the gray-green hanging moss that grows on
+the spruces. Here is a fallen tree half covered with the rich food.
+Megaleep nibbles a bite or two, then wanders away and away in search
+of another tree like the one he has just left.
+
+And when you find him at last, the chances are still against you. You
+are stealing forward cautiously when a fresh sign attracts attention.
+You stop to examine it a moment. Something gray, dim, misty, seems to
+drift like a cloud through the trees ahead. You scarcely notice it
+till, on your right, a stir, and another cloud, and another--The
+caribou, quick, a score of them! But before your rifle is up and you
+have found the sights, the gray things melt into the gray woods and
+drift away; and the stalk begins all over again.
+
+The reason for this restlessness is not far to seek. Megaleep's
+ancestors followed regular migrations in spring and autumn, like the
+birds, on the unwooded plains beyond the Arctic Circle. Megaleep never
+migrates; but the old instinct is in him and will not let him rest. So
+he wanders through the year, and is never satisfied.
+
+Fortunately nature has been kind to Megaleep in providing him with
+means to gratify his wandering disposition. In winter, moose and red
+deer must gather into yards and stay there. With the first heavy storm
+of December, they gather in small bands here and there on the hardwood
+ridges, and begin to make paths in the snow,--long, twisted, crooked
+paths, running for miles in every direction, crossing and recrossing
+in a tangle utterly hopeless to any head save that of a deer or moose.
+These paths they keep tramped down and more or less open all winter,
+so as to feed on the twigs and bark growing on either side. Were it
+not for this curious provision, a single severe winter would leave
+hardly a moose or a deer alive in the woods; for their hoofs are sharp
+and sink deep, and with six feet of snow on a level they can scarcely
+run half a mile outside their paths without becoming hopelessly
+stalled or exhausted.
+
+It is this great tangle of paths, by the way, which makes a deer or a
+moose yard; and not the stupid hole in the snow which is pictured in
+the geographies and most natural history books.
+
+But Megaleep the Wanderer makes no such provision he depends upon
+Mother Nature to take care of him. In summer he is brown, like the
+great tree trunks among which he moves unseen. Then the frog of his
+foot expands and grows spongy, so that he can cling to the
+mountain-side like a goat, or move silently over the dead leaves. In
+winter he becomes a soft gray, the better to fade into a snowstorm, or
+to stand concealed in plain sight on the edges of the gray, desolate
+barrens that he loves. Then the frog of his foot arches up out of the
+way; the edges of his hoof grow sharp and shell-like, so that he can
+travel over glare ice without slipping, and cut the crust to dig down
+for the moss upon which he feeds. The hoofs, moreover, are very large
+and deeply cleft, so as to spread widely when his weight is on them.
+When you first find his track in the snow, you rub your eyes, thinking
+that a huge ox must have passed that way. The dew-claws are also
+large, and the ankle joint so flexible that it lets them down upon the
+snow. So Megaleep has a kind of natural snowshoe with which he moves
+easily over the crust, and, except in very deep, soft snows, wanders
+at will, while other deer are prisoners in their yards. It is the
+snapping of these loose hoofs and ankle joints that makes the merry
+clacking sound as caribou run.
+
+Sometimes, however, they overestimate their abilities, and their
+wandering disposition brings them into trouble. Once I found a herd of
+seven up to their backs in soft snow, and tired out,--a strange
+condition for a caribou to be in. They were taking the affair
+philosophically, resting till they should gather strength to flounder
+to some spruce tops where moss was plenty. When I approached gently on
+snowshoes (I had been hunting them diligently the week before to kill
+them; but this put a different face on the matter) they gave a bound
+or two, then settled deep in the snow, and turned their heads and said
+with their great soft eyes: "You have hunted us. Here we are, at your
+mercy."
+
+They were very much frightened at first; then I thought they grew a
+bit curious, as I sat down peaceably in the snow to watch them. One--a
+doe, more exhausted than the others, and famished--even nibbled a bit
+of moss that I pushed near her with a stick. I had picked it with
+gloves, so that the smell of my hand was not on it. After an hour or
+so, if I moved softly, they let me approach quite up to them without
+shaking their antlers or renewing their desperate attempts to flounder
+away. But I did not touch them. That is a degradation which no wild
+creature will permit when he is free; and I would not take advantage
+of their helplessness.
+
+Did they starve in the snow? you ask. Oh, no! I went to the place next
+day and found that they had gained the spruce tops, ploughing through
+the snow in great bounds, following the track of the strongest, which
+went ahead to break the way. There they fed and rested, then went to
+some dense thickets where they passed the night. In a day or two the
+snow settled and hardened, and they took to their wandering again.
+
+Later, in hunting, I crossed their tracks several times, and once I
+saw them across a barren; but I left them undisturbed, to follow other
+trails. We had eaten together; they had fed from my hand; and there
+is no older truce on earth than that, not even in the unchanging East,
+where it originated.
+
+Megaleep in a storm is a most curious creature, the nearest thing to a
+ghost to be found in the woods. More than other animals he feels the
+falling barometer. His movements at such times drive you to
+desperation, if you are following him; for he wanders unceasingly.
+When the storm breaks he has a way of appearing suddenly, as if he
+were seeking you, when by his trail you thought him miles ahead. And
+the way he disappears--just melts into the thick driving flakes and
+the shrouded trees--is most uncanny. Six or seven caribou once played
+hide-and-seek with me that way, giving me vague glimpses here and
+there, drawing near to get my scent, yet keeping me looking up wind
+into the driving snow where I could see nothing distinctly. And all
+the while they drifted about like so many huge flakes of the storm,
+watching my every movement, seeing me perfectly.
+
+At such times they fear little, and even lay aside their usual
+caution. I remember trailing a large herd one day from early morning,
+keeping near them all the time, and jumping them half a dozen times,
+yet never getting a glimpse because of their extreme watchfulness. For
+some reason they were unwilling to leave a small chain of barrens.
+Perhaps they knew the storm was coming, when they would be safe; and
+so, instead of swinging off into a ten-mile straightaway trot at the
+first alarm, they kept dodging back and forth within a two-mile
+circle. At last, late in the afternoon, I followed the trail to the
+edge of dense evergreen thickets. Caribou generally rest in open woods
+or on the windward edge of a barren. Eyes for the open, nose for the
+cover, is their motto. And I thought, "They know perfectly well I am
+following them, and so have lain down in that tangle. If I go in, they
+will hear me; a wood mouse could hardly keep quiet in such a place. If
+I go round, they will catch my scent; if I wait, so will they; if I
+jump them, the scrub will cover their retreat perfectly."
+
+As I sat down in the snow to think it over, a heavy rush deep within
+the thicket told me that something, not I certainly, had again started
+them. Suddenly the air darkened, and above the excitement of the hunt
+I felt the storm coming. A storm in the woods is no joke when you are
+six miles from camp without axe or blanket. I broke away from the
+trail and started for the head of the second barren on the run. If I
+could make that, I was safe; for there was a stream near, which led
+near to camp; and one cannot very well lose a stream, even in a
+snowstorm. But before I was halfway the flakes were driving thick and
+soft in my face. Another half-mile, and one could not see fifty feet
+in any direction. Still I kept on, holding my course by the wind and
+my compass. Then, at the foot of the second barren, my snowshoes
+stumbled into great depressions in the snow, and I found myself on the
+fresh trail of my caribou again. "If I am lost, I will at least have a
+caribou steak, and a skin to wrap me up in," I said, and plunged after
+them. As I went, the old Mother Goose rhyme of nursery days came back
+and set itself to hunting music:
+
+  Bye, baby bunting,
+  Daddy's gone a hunting,
+  For to catch a rabbit skin
+  To wrap the baby bunting in.
+
+Presently I began to sing it aloud. It cheered one up in the storm,
+and the lilt of it kept time to the leaping kind of gallop which is
+the easiest way to run on snowshoes: "Bye, baby bunting; bye, baby
+bunting--Hello!"
+
+A dark mass loomed suddenly up before me on the open barren. The storm
+lightened a bit, before setting in heavier; and there were the caribou
+just in front of me, standing in a compact mass, the weaker ones in
+the middle. They had no thought nor fear of me apparently; they
+showed no sign of anger or uneasiness. Indeed, they barely moved aside
+as I snowshoed up, in plain sight, without any precaution whatever.
+And these were the same animals that had fled upon my approach at
+daylight, and that had escaped me all day with marvelous cunning.
+
+As with other deer, the storm is Megaleep's natural protector. When it
+comes he thinks that he is safe; that nobody can see him; that the
+falling snow will fill his tracks and kill his scent; and that
+whatever follows must speedily seek cover for itself. So he gives up
+watching, and lies down where he will. So far as his natural enemies
+are concerned, he is safe in this; for lynx and wolf and panther, seek
+shelter with a falling barometer. They can neither see nor smell; and
+they are all afraid. I have often noticed that among all animals and
+birds, from the least to the greatest, there is always a truce when
+the storms are out.
+
+But the most curious thing I ever stumbled into was a caribou school.
+That sounds queer; but it is more common in the wilderness than one
+thinks. All gregarious animals have perfectly well defined social
+regulations, which the young must learn and respect. To learn them,
+they go to school in their own interesting way.
+
+The caribou I am speaking of now are all woodland caribou--larger,
+finer animals every way than the barren-ground caribou of the desolate
+unwooded regions farther north. In summer they live singly, rearing
+their young in deep forest seclusions. There each one does as he
+pleases. So when you meet a caribou in summer, he is a different
+creature, and has more unknown and curious ways than when he runs with
+the herd in midwinter. I remember a solitary old bull that lived on
+the mountain-side opposite my camp one summer, a most interesting
+mixture of fear and boldness, of reserve and intense curiosity. After
+I had hunted him a few times, and he found that my purpose was wholly
+peaceable, he took to hunting me in the same way, just to find out who
+I was, and what queer thing I was doing. Sometimes I would see him at
+sunset on a dizzy cliff across the lake, watching for the curl of
+smoke or the coming of a canoe. And when I dove in for a swim and went
+splashing, dog-paddle way, about the island where my tent was, he
+would walk about in the greatest excitement, and start a dozen times
+to come down; but always he ran back for another look, as if
+fascinated. Again he would come down on a burned point near the deep
+hole where I was fishing, and, hiding his body in the underbrush,
+would push his horns up into the bare branches of a withered shrub,
+so as to make them inconspicuous, and stand watching me. As long as he
+was quiet, it was impossible to see him there; but I could always make
+him start nervously by flashing a looking-glass, or flopping a fish in
+the water, or whistling a jolly Irish jig. And when I tied a bright
+tomato can to a string and set it whirling round my head, or set my
+handkerchief for a flag on the end of my trout rod, then he could not
+stand it another minute, but came running down to the shore, to stamp,
+and fidget, and stare nervously, and scare himself with twenty alarms
+while trying to make up his mind to swim out and satisfy his burning
+desire to know all about it. But I am forgetting the caribou schools.
+
+Wherever there are barrens--treeless plains in the midst of dense
+forest--the caribou collect in small herds as winter comes on,
+following the old gregarious instinct. Then each one cannot do as he
+pleases any more; and it is for this winter and spring life together,
+when laws must be known, and the rights of the individual be laid
+aside for the good of the herd, that the young are trained.
+
+One afternoon in late summer I was drifting down the Toledi River,
+casting for trout, when a movement in the bushes ahead caught my
+attention. A great swampy tract of ground, covered with grass and low
+brush, spread out on either side the stream. From the canoe I made out
+two or three waving lines of bushes where some animals were making
+their way through the swamp towards a strip of big timber which formed
+a kind of island in the middle.
+
+Pushing my canoe into the grass, I made for a point just astern of the
+nearest quivering line of bushes. A glance at a bit of soft ground
+showed me the trail of a mother caribou with her calf. I followed
+cautiously, the wind being ahead in my favor. They were not hurrying,
+and I took good pains not to alarm them.
+
+When I reached the timber and crept like a snake through the
+underbrush, there were the caribou, five or six mother animals, and
+nearly twice as many little ones, well grown, which had evidently just
+come in from all directions. They were gathered in a natural opening,
+fairly clear of bushes, with a fallen tree or two, which served a good
+purpose later. The sunlight fell across it in great golden bars,
+making light and shadow to play in; all around was the great marsh,
+giving protection from enemies; dense underbrush screened them from
+prying eyes--and this was their schoolroom.
+
+The little ones were pushed out into the middle, away from the
+mothers to whom they clung instinctively, and were left to get
+acquainted with each other, which they did very shyly at first, like
+so many strange children. It was all new and curious, this meeting of
+their kind; for till now they had lived in dense solitudes, each one
+knowing no living creature save its own mother. Some were timid, and
+backed away as far as possible into the shadow, looking with wild,
+wide eyes from one to another of the little caribou, and bolting to
+their mothers' sides at every unusual movement. Others were bold, and
+took to butting at the first encounter. But careful, kindly eyes
+watched over them. Now and then a mother caribou would come from the
+shadows and push a little one gently from his retreat under a bush out
+into the company. Another would push her way between two heads that
+lowered at each other threateningly, and say with a warning shake of
+her head that butting was no good way to get along together. I had
+once thought, watching a herd on the barrens through my glasses, that
+they are the gentlest of animals with each other. Here in the little
+school in the heart of the swamp I found the explanation of things.
+
+For over an hour I lay there and watched, my curiosity growing more
+eager every moment; for most of what I saw I could not comprehend,
+having no key, nor understanding why certain youngsters, who needed
+reproof according to my standards, were let alone, and others kept
+moving constantly, and still others led aside often to be talked to by
+their mothers. But at last came a lesson in which all joined, and
+which could not be misunderstood, not even by a man. It was the
+jumping lesson.
+
+Caribou are naturally poor jumpers. Beside a deer, who often goes out
+of his way to jump a fallen tree just for the fun of it, they have no
+show whatever; though they can travel much farther in a day and much
+easier. Their gait is a swinging trot, from which it is impossible to
+jump; and if you frighten them out of their trot into a gallop and
+keep them at it, they soon grow exhausted. Countless generations on
+the northern wastes, where there is no need of jumping, have bred this
+habit, and modified their muscles accordingly. But now a race of
+caribou has moved south into the woods, where great trees lie fallen
+across the way, and where, if Megaleep is in a hurry or there is
+anybody behind him, jumping is a necessity. Still he doesn't like it,
+and avoids it whenever possible. The little ones, left to themselves,
+would always crawl under a tree, or trot round it. And this is another
+thing to overcome, and another lesson to be taught in the caribou
+school.
+
+As I watched them the mothers all came out from the shadows and began
+trotting round the opening, the little ones keeping close as possible,
+each one to its mother's side. Then the old ones went faster; the
+calves were left in a long line stringing out behind. Suddenly the
+leader veered in to the edge of the timber and went over a fallen tree
+with a jump; the cows followed splendidly, rising on one side, falling
+gracefully on the other, like gray waves racing past the end of a
+jetty. But the first little one dropped his head obstinately at the
+tree and stopped short. The next one did the same thing; only he ran
+his head into the first one's legs and knocked them out from under
+him. The others whirled with a _ba-a-a-ah_, and scampered round the
+tree and up to their mothers, who had turned now and stood watching
+anxiously to see the effect of their lesson. Then it began over again.
+
+It was true kindergarten teaching; for under guise of a frolic the
+calves were being taught a needful lesson,--not only to jump, but, far
+more important than that, to follow a leader, and to go where he goes
+without question or hesitation. For the leaders on the barrens are
+wise old bulls that make no mistakes. Most of the little caribou took
+to the sport very well, and presently followed the mothers over the
+low hurdles. But a few were timid; and then came the most intensely
+interesting bit of the whole strange school, when a little one would
+be led to a tree and butted from behind till he took the jump.
+
+There was no "consent of the governed" in that governing. The mother
+knew, and the calf didn't, just what was good for him.
+
+It was this last lesson that broke up the school. Just in front of my
+hiding place a tree fell out into the opening. A mother caribou
+brought her calf up to this unsuspectingly, and leaped over, expecting
+the little one to follow. As she struck she whirled like a top and
+stood like a beautiful statue, her head pointing in my direction. Her
+eyes were bright with fear, the ears set forward, the nostrils spread
+to catch every tainted atom from the air. Then she turned and glided
+silently away, the little one close to her side, looking up and
+touching her frequently as if to whisper, _What is it? what is it?_
+but making no sound. There was no signal given, no alarm of any kind
+that I could understand; yet the lesson stopped instantly. The caribou
+glided away like shadows. Over across the opening a bush swayed here
+and there; a leaf quivered as if something touched its branch. Then
+the schoolroom was empty and the woods all still.
+
+There is another curious habit of Megaleep; and this one I am utterly
+at a loss to account for. When he is old and feeble, and the tireless
+muscles will no longer carry him with the herd over the wind-swept
+barrens, and he falls sick at last, he goes to a spot far away in the
+woods, where generations of his ancestors have preceded him, and there
+lays him down to die. It is the caribou burying ground; and all the
+animals of a certain district, or a certain herd (I am unable to tell
+which), will go there when sick or sore wounded, if they have strength
+enough to reach the spot. For it is far away from the scene of their
+summer homes and their winter wanderings.
+
+I know one such place, and visited it twice from my summer camp. It is
+in a dark tamarack swamp by a lonely lake at the head of the
+Little-South-West Miramichi River, in New Brunswick. I found it one
+summer when trying to force my way from the big lake to a smaller one,
+where trout were plenty. In the midst of the swamp I stumbled upon a
+pair of caribou skeletons, which surprised me; for there were no
+hunters within a hundred miles, and at that time the lake had lain for
+many years unvisited. I thought of fights between bucks, and bull
+moose, how two bulls will sometimes lock horns in a rush, and are too
+weakened to break the lock, and so die together of exhaustion.
+Caribou are more peaceable; they rarely fight that way; and, besides,
+the horns here were not locked together, but lying well apart. As I
+searched about, looking for the explanation of things, thinking of
+wolves, yet wondering why the bones were not gnawed, I found another
+skeleton, much older, then four or five more; some quite fresh, others
+crumbling into mould. Bits of old bone and some splendid antlers were
+scattered here and there through the underbrush; and when I scraped
+away the dead leaves and moss, there were older bones and fragments
+mouldering beneath.
+
+I scarcely understood the meaning of it at the time; but since then I
+have met men, Indians and hunters, who have spent much time in the
+wilderness, who speak of "bone yards" which they have discovered,
+places where they can go at any time and be sure of finding a good set
+of caribou antlers. And they say that the caribou go there to die.
+
+All animals, when feeble with age, or sickly, or wounded, have the
+habit of going away deep into the loneliest coverts, and there lying
+down where the leaves shall presently cover them. So that one rarely
+finds a dead bird or animal in the woods where thousands die yearly.
+Even your dog, that was born and lived by your house, often
+disappears when you thought him too feeble to walk. Death calls him
+gently; the old wolf stirs deep within him, and he goes away where the
+master he served will never find him. And so with your cat, which is
+only skin-deep a domestic animal; and so with your canary, which in
+death alone would be free, and beats his failing wings against the
+cage in which he lived so long content. But these all go away singly,
+each to his own place. The caribou is the only animal I know that
+remembers, when his separation comes, the ties which bound him to the
+herd winter after winter, through sun and storm, in the forest where
+all was peace and plenty, and on the lonely barrens where the gray
+wolf howled on his track; so that he turns with his last strength from
+the herd he is leaving to the greater herd which has gone before
+him--still following his leaders, remembering his first lesson to the
+end.
+
+Sometimes I have wondered whether this also were taught in the caribou
+school; whether once in his life Megaleep were led to the spot and
+made to pass through it, so that he should feel its meaning and
+remember. That is not likely; for the one thing which an animal cannot
+understand is death. And there were no signs of living caribou
+anywhere near the place that I discovered; though down at the other
+end of the lake their tracks were everywhere.
+
+There are other questions, which one can only ask without answering.
+Is this silent gathering merely a tribute to the old law of the herd,
+or does Megaleep, with his last strength, still think to cheat his old
+enemy, and go away where the wolf that followed him all his life shall
+not find him? How was his resting place first selected, and what
+leaders searched out the ground? What sound or sign, what murmur of
+wind in the pines, or lap of ripples on the shore, or song of the
+veery at twilight made them pause and say, _Here is the place_? How
+does he know, he whose thoughts are all of life, and who never looked
+on death, where the great silent herd is that no caribou ever sees but
+once? And what strange instinct guides Megaleep to the spot where all
+his wanderings end at last?
+
+
+
+
+II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE.
+
+[Illustration: Killooleet]
+
+
+The day was cold, the woods were wet, and the weather was beastly
+altogether when Killooleet first came and sang on my ridgepole. The
+fishing was poor down in the big lake, and there were signs of
+civilization here and there, in the shape of settlers' cabins, which
+we did not like; so we had pushed up river, Simmo and I, thirty miles
+in the rain, to a favorite camping ground on a smaller lake, where we
+had the wilderness all to ourselves.
+
+The rain was still falling, and the lake white-capped, and the forest
+all misty and wind-blown when we ran our canoes ashore by the old
+cedar that marked our landing place. First we built a big fire to
+dry some boughs to sleep upon; then we built our houses, Simmo a
+bark _commoosie_, and I a little tent; and I was inside, getting
+dry clothes out of a rubber bag, when I heard a white-throated
+sparrow calling cheerily his Indian name, _O hear, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!_ And the sound was so sunny, so good
+to hear in the steady drip of rain on the roof, that I went out to see
+the little fellow who had bid us welcome to the wilderness.
+
+Simmo had heard too. He was on his hands and knees, just his dark face
+peering by the corner stake of his _commoosie_, so as to see better
+the little singer on my tent.--"Have better weather and better luck
+now. Killooleet sing on ridgepole," he said confidently. Then we
+spread some cracker crumbs for the guest and turned in to sleep till
+better times.
+
+That was the beginning of a long acquaintance. It was also the first
+of many social calls from a whole colony of white-throats (Tom-Peabody
+birds) that lived on the mountain-side just behind my tent, and that
+came one by one to sing to us, and to get acquainted, and to share our
+crumbs. Sometimes, too, in rainy weather, when the woods seemed wetter
+than the lake, and Simmo would be sleeping philosophically, and I
+reading, or tying trout flies in the tent, I would hear a gentle stir
+and a rustle or two just outside, under the tent fly. Then, if I crept
+out quietly, I would find Killooleet exploring my goods to find where
+the crackers grew, or just resting contentedly under the fly where it
+was dry and comfortable.
+
+It was good to live there among them, with the mountain at our backs
+and the lake at our feet, and peace breathing in every breeze or
+brooding silently over the place at twilight. Rain or shine, day or
+night, these white-throated sparrows are the sunniest, cheeriest folk
+to be found anywhere in the woods. I grew to understand and love the
+Milicete name, Killooleet, Little Sweet-Voice, for its expressiveness.
+"Hour-Bird" the Micmacs call him; for they say he sings every hour,
+and so tells the time, "all same's one white man's watch." And indeed
+there is rarely an hour, day or night, in the northern woods when you
+cannot hear Killooleet singing. Other birds grow silent after they
+have won their mates, or they grow fat and lazy as summer advances, or
+absorbed in the care of their young, and have no time nor thought for
+singing. But not so Killooleet. He is kinder to his mate after he has
+won her, and never lets selfishness or the summer steal away his
+music; for he knows that the woods are brighter for his singing.
+
+Sometimes, at night, I would, take a brand from the fire, and follow a
+deer path that wound about the mountain, or steal away into a dark
+thicket and strike a parlor match. As the flame shot up, lighting its
+little circle of waiting leaves, there would be a stir beside me in
+the underbrush, or overhead in the fir; then tinkling out of the
+darkness, like a brook under the snow, would come the low clear strain
+of melody that always set my heart a-dancing,--_I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet_, the good-night song of my gentle
+neighbor. Then along the path a little way, and another match, and
+another song to make one better and his rest sweeter.
+
+By day I used to listen to them, hours long at a stretch, practicing
+to perfect their song. These were the younger birds, of course; and
+for a long time they puzzled me. Those who know Killooleet's song will
+remember that it begins with three clear sweet notes; but very few
+have observed the break between the second and third of these. I
+noticed, first of all, that certain birds would start the song twenty
+times in succession, yet never get beyond the second note. And when I
+crept up, to find out about it, I would find them sitting
+disconsolately, deep in shadow, instead of out in the light where they
+love to sing, with a pitiful little droop of wings and tail, and the
+air of failure and dejection in every movement. Then again these same
+singers would touch the third note, and always in such cases they
+would prolong the last trill, the _lillooleet-lillooleet_ (the
+_Peabody-Peabody_, as some think of it), to an indefinite length,
+instead of stopping at the second or third repetition, which is the
+rule with good singers. Then they would come out of the shadow, and
+stir about briskly, and sing again with an air of triumph.
+
+One day, while lying still in the underbrush watching a wood mouse,
+Killooleet, a fine male bird and a perfect singer, came and sang on a
+branch just over my head, not noticing me. Then I discovered that
+there is a trill, a tiny grace note or yodel, at the end of his second
+note. I listened carefully to other singers, as close as I could get,
+and found that it is always there, and is the one difficult part of
+the song. You must be very close to the bird to appreciate the beauty
+of this little yodel; for ten feet away it sounds like a faint cluck
+interrupting the flow of the third note; and a little farther away you
+cannot hear it at all.
+
+[Illustration: Killooleet]
+
+Whatever its object, Killooleet regards this as the indispensable part
+of his song, and never goes on to the third note unless he gets the
+second perfectly. That accounts for the many times when one hears only
+the first two notes. That accounts also for the occasional prolonged
+trill which one hears; for when a young bird has tried many times for
+his grace note without success, and then gets it unexpectedly, he is
+so pleased with himself that he forgets he is not Whippoorwill, who
+tries to sing as long as the brook without stopping, and so keeps up
+the final _lillooleet-lillooleet_ as long as he has an atom of breath
+left to do it with.
+
+But of all the Killooleets,--and there were many that I soon
+recognized, either by their songs, or by some peculiarity in their
+striped caps or brown jackets,--the most interesting was the one who
+first perched on my ridgepole and bade me welcome to his camping
+ground. I soon learned to distinguish him easily; his cap was very
+bright, and his white cravat very full, and his song never stopped at
+the second note, for he had mastered the trill perfectly. Then, too,
+he was more friendly and fearless than all the others. The morning
+after our arrival (it was better weather, as Simmo and Killooleet had
+predicted) we were eating breakfast by the fire, when he lit on the
+ground close by, and turned his head sidewise to look at us curiously.
+I tossed him a big crumb, which made him run away in fright; but when
+he thought we were not looking he stole back, touched, tasted, ate the
+whole of it. And when I threw him another crumb, he hopped to meet it.
+
+After that he came regularly to meals, and would look critically over
+the tin plate which I placed at my feet, and pick and choose daintily
+from the cracker and trout and bacon and porridge which I offered him.
+Soon he began to take bits away with him, and I could hear him, just
+inside the fringe of underbrush, persuading his mate to come too and
+share his plate. But she was much shyer than he; it was several days
+before I noticed her flitting in and out of the shadowy underbrush;
+and when I tossed her the first crumb, she flew away in a terrible
+fright. Gradually, however, Killooleet persuaded her that we were
+kindly, and she came often to meals; but she would never come near, to
+eat from my tin plate, till after I had gone away.
+
+Never a day now passed that one or both of the birds did not rest on
+my tent. When I put my head out, like a turtle out of his shell, in
+the early morning to look at the weather, Killooleet would look down
+from the projecting end of the ridgepole and sing good-morning. And
+when I had been out late on the lake, night-fishing, or following the
+inlet for beaver, or watching the grassy points for caribou, or just
+drifting along shore silently to catch the night sounds and smells of
+the woods, I would listen with childish anticipation for Killooleet's
+welcome as I approached the landing. He had learned to recognize the
+sounds of my coming, the rub of a careless paddle, the ripple of
+water under the bow, or the grating of pebbles on the beach; and with
+Simmo asleep, and the fire low, it was good to be welcomed back by a
+cheery little voice in the darkness; for he always sang when he heard
+me. Sometimes I would try to surprise him; but his sleep was too light
+and his ears too keen. The canoe would glide up to the old cedar and
+touch the shore noiselessly; but with the first crunch of gravel under
+my foot, or the rub of my canoe as I lifted it out, he would waken;
+and his song, all sweetness and cheer, _I'm here, sweet
+Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet_, would ripple out of the dark
+underbrush where his nest was.
+
+I am glad now to think that I never saw that nest, though it was
+scarcely ten yards from my tent, until after the young had flown, and
+Killooleet cared no more about it. I knew the bush in which it was,
+close by the deer path; could pick out from my fireplace the thick
+branch that sheltered it; for I often watched the birds coming and
+going. I have no doubt that Killooleet would have welcomed me there
+without fear; but his mate never laid aside her shyness about it,
+never went to it directly when I was looking, and I knew he would like
+me better if I respected her little secret.
+
+Soon, from the mate's infrequent visits, and from the amount of food
+which Killooleet took away with him, I knew she was brooding her eggs.
+And when at last both birds came together, and, instead of helping
+themselves hungrily, each took the largest morsel he could carry and
+hurried away to the nest, I knew that the little ones were come; and I
+spread the plate more liberally, and moved it away to the foot of the
+old cedar, where Killooleet's mate would not be afraid to come at any
+time.
+
+One day, not long after, as I sat at a late breakfast after the
+morning's fishing, there was a great stir in the underbrush. Presently
+Killooleet came skipping out, all fuss and feathers, running back and
+forth with an air of immense importance between the last bush and the
+plate by the cedar, crying out in his own way, "Here it is, here it
+is, all right, just by the old tree as usual. Crackers, trout, brown
+bread, porridge; come on, come on; don't be afraid. _He's_ here, but
+he won't harm. I know him. Come on, come on!"
+
+Soon his little gray mate appeared under the last bush, and after much
+circumspection came hopping towards the breakfast; and after her, in a
+long line, five little Killooleets, hopping, fluttering, cheeping,
+stumbling,--all in a fright at the big world, but all in a desperate
+hurry for crackers and porridge _ad libitum_; now casting hungry eyes
+at the plate under the old cedar, now stopping to turn their heads
+sidewise to see the big kind animal with only two legs, that
+Killooleet had told them about, no doubt, many times.
+
+After that we had often seven guests to breakfast, instead of two. It
+was good to hear them, the lively _tink, tink-a-tink_ of their little
+bills on the tin plate in a merry tattoo, as I ate my own tea and
+trout thankfully. I had only to raise my eyes to see them in a bobbing
+brown ring about my bounty; and, just beyond them, the lap of ripples
+on the beach, the lake glinting far away in the sunshine, and a bark
+canoe fretting at the landing, swinging, veering, nodding at the
+ripples, and beckoning me to come away as soon as I had finished my
+breakfast.
+
+Before the little Killooleets had grown accustomed to things, however,
+occurred the most delicious bit of our summer camping. It was only a
+day or two after their first appearance; they knew simply that crumbs
+and a welcome awaited them at my camp, but had not yet learned that
+the tin plate in the cedar roots was their special portion. Simmo had
+gone off at daylight, looking up beaver signs for his fall trapping. I
+had just returned from the morning fishing, and was getting breakfast,
+when I saw an otter come out into the lake from a cold brook over on
+the east shore. Grabbing a handful of figs, and some pilot bread from
+the cracker box, I paddled away after the otter; for that is an animal
+which one has small chance to watch nowadays. Besides, I had found a
+den over near the brook, and I wanted to find out, if possible, how a
+mother otter teaches her young to swim. For, though otters live much
+in the water and love it, the young ones are afraid of it as so many
+kittens. So the mother--
+
+But I must tell about that elsewhere. I did not find out that day; for
+the young were already good swimmers. I watched the den two or three
+hours from a good hiding place, and got several glimpses of the mother
+and the little ones. On the way back I ran into a little bay where a
+mother shelldrake was teaching her brood to dive and catch trout.
+There was also a big frog there that always sat in the same place, and
+that I used to watch. Then I thought of a trap, two miles away, which
+Simmo had set, and went to see if Nemox, the cunning fisher, who
+destroys the sable traps in winter, had been caught at his own game.
+So it was afternoon, and I was hungry, when I paddled back to camp. It
+occurred to me suddenly that Killooleet might be hungry too; for I had
+neglected to feed him. He had grown sleek and comfortable of late, and
+never went insect hunting when he could get cold fried trout and corn
+bread.
+
+I landed silently and stole up to the tent to see if he were exploring
+under the fly, as he sometimes did when I was away. A curious sound, a
+hollow _tunk, tunk, tunk, tunk-a-tunk_, grew louder as I approached. I
+stole to the big cedar, where I could see the fireplace and the little
+opening before my tent, and noticed first that I had left the cracker
+box open (it was almost empty) when I hurried away after the otter.
+The curious sound was inside, growing more eager every moment--_tunk,
+tunk, tunk-a-trrrrrrr-runk, tunk, tunk!_
+
+I crept on my hands and knees to the box, to see what queer thing had
+found his way to the crackers, and peeped cautiously over the edge.
+There were Killooleet, and Mrs. Killooleet, and the five little
+Killooleets, just seven hopping brown backs and bobbing heads, helping
+themselves to the crackers. And the sound of their bills on the empty
+box made the jolliest tattoo that ever came out of a camping kit.
+
+I crept away more cautiously than I had come, and, standing carelessly
+in my tent door, whistled the call I always used in feeding the birds.
+Like a flash Killooleet appeared on the edge of the cracker box,
+looking very much surprised. "I thought you were away; why, I thought
+you were away," he seemed to be saying. Then he clucked, and the
+_tunk-a-tunk_ ceased instantly. Another cluck, and Mrs. Killooleet
+appeared, looking frightened; then, one after another, the five little
+Killooleets bobbed up; and there they sat in a solemn row on the edge
+of the cracker box, turning their heads sidewise to see me better.
+
+"There!" said Killooleet, "didn't I tell you he wouldn't hurt you?"
+And like five winks the five little Killooleets were back in the box,
+and the _tunk-a-tunking_ began again.
+
+This assurance that they might do as they pleased, and help themselves
+undisturbed to whatever they found, seemed to remove the last doubt
+from the mind of even the little gray mate. After that they stayed
+most of the time close about my tent, and were never so far away, or
+so busy insect hunting, that they would not come when I whistled and
+scattered crumbs. The little Killooleets grew amazingly, and no
+wonder! They were always eating, always hungry. I took good pains to
+give them less than they wanted, and so had the satisfaction of
+feeding them often, and of finding their tin plate picked clean
+whenever I came back from fishing.
+
+Did the woods seem lonely to Killooleet when we paddled away at last
+and left the wilderness for another year? That is a question which I
+would give much, or watch long, to answer. There is always a regret at
+leaving a good camping ground, but I had never packed up so
+unwillingly before. Killooleet was singing, cheery as ever; but my own
+heart gave a minor chord of sadness to his trill that was not there
+when he sang on my ridgepole. Before leaving I had baked a loaf, big
+and hard, which I fastened with stakes at the foot of the old cedar,
+with a tin plate under it and a bark roof above, so that when it
+rained, and insects were hidden under the leaves, and their hunting
+was no fun because the woods were wet, Killooleet and his little ones
+would find food, and remember me. And so we paddled away and left him
+to the wilderness.
+
+A year later my canoe touched the same old landing. For ten months I
+had been in the city, where Killooleet never sings, and where the
+wilderness is only a memory. In the fall, on some long tramps, I had
+occasional glimpses of the little singer, solitary now and silent,
+stealing southward ahead of the winter. And in the spring he showed
+himself rarely in the underbrush on country roads, eager, restless,
+chirping, hurrying northward where the streams were clear and the big
+woods budding. But never a song in all that time; my ears were hungry
+for his voice as I leaped out to run eagerly to the big cedar. There
+were the stakes, and the tin plate, and the bark roof all crushed by
+the snows of winter. The bread was gone; what Killooleet had spared,
+Tookhees the wood mouse had eaten thankfully. I found the old tent
+poles and put up my house leisurely, a hundred happy memories
+thronging about me. In the midst of them came a call, a clear
+whistle,--and there he was, the same full cravat, the same bright cap,
+and the same perfect song to set my nerves a-tingling: _I'm here,
+sweet Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet!_ And when I put crumbs by the
+old fireplace, he flew down to help himself, and went off with the
+biggest one, as of yore, to his nest by the deer path.
+
+
+
+
+III. KAGAX THE BLOODTHIRSTY.
+
+[Illustration: Kagax]
+
+
+This is the story of one day, the last one, in the life of Kagax the
+Weasel, who turns white in winter, and yellow in spring, and brown in
+summer, the better to hide his villainy.
+
+It was early twilight when Kagax came out of his den in the rocks,
+under the old pine that lightning had blasted. Day and night were
+meeting swiftly but warily, as they always meet in the woods. The life
+of the sunshine came stealing nestwards and denwards in the peace of a
+long day and a full stomach; the night life began to stir in its
+coverts, eager, hungry, whining. Deep in the wild raspberry thickets a
+wood thrush rang his vesper bell softly; from the mountain top a night
+hawk screamed back an answer, and came booming down to earth, where
+the insects were rising in myriads. Near the thrush a striped chipmunk
+sat chunk-a-chunking his sleepy curiosity at a burned log which a bear
+had just torn open for red ants; while down on the lake shore a
+cautious _plash-plash_ told where a cow moose had come out of the
+alders with her calf to sup on the yellow lily roots and sip the
+freshest water. Everywhere life was stirring; everywhere cries, calls,
+squeaks, chirps, rustlings, which only the wood-dweller knows how to
+interpret, broke in upon the twilight stillness.
+
+Kagax grinned and showed all his wicked little teeth as the many
+voices went up from lake and stream and forest. "Mine, all mine--to
+kill," he snarled, and his eyes began to glow deep red. Then he
+stretched one sinewy paw after another, rolled over, climbed a tree,
+and jumped down from a swaying twig to get the sleep all out of him.
+
+Kagax had slept too much, and was mad with the world. The night
+before, he had killed from sunset to sunrise, and much tasting of
+blood had made him heavy. So he had slept all day long, only stirring
+once to kill a partridge that had drummed near his den and waked him
+out of sleep. But he was too heavy to hunt then, so he crept back
+again, leaving the bird untasted under the end of his own drumming
+log. Now Kagax was eager to make up for lost time; for all time is
+lost to Kagax that is not spent in killing. That is why he runs night
+and day, and barely tastes the blood of his victims, and sleeps only
+an hour or two of cat naps at a time--just long enough to gather
+energy for more evil doing.
+
+As he stretched himself again, a sudden barking and snickering came
+from a giant spruce on the hill just above. Meeko, the red squirrel,
+had discovered a new jay's nest, and was making a sensation over it,
+as he does over everything that he has not happened to see before. Had
+he known who was listening, he would have risked his neck in a
+headlong rush for safety; for all the wild things fear Kagax as they
+fear death. But no wild thing ever knows till too late that a weasel
+is near.
+
+Kagax listened a moment, a ferocious grin on his pointed face; then he
+stole towards the sound. "I intended to kill those young hares first,"
+he thought, "but this fool squirrel will stretch my legs better, and
+point my nose, and get the sleep out of me--There he is, in the big
+spruce!"
+
+Kagax had not seen the squirrel; but that did not matter; he can
+locate a victim better with his nose or ears than he can with his
+eyes. The moment he was sure of the place, he rushed forward without
+caution. Meeko was in the midst of a prolonged snicker at the scolding
+jays, when he heard a scratch on the bark below, turned, looked down,
+and fled with a cry of terror. Kagax was already halfway up the tree,
+the red fire blazing in his eyes.
+
+The squirrel rushed to the end of a branch, jumped to a smaller
+spruce, ran that up to the top; then, because his fright had made him
+forget the tree paths that ordinarily he knew very well, he sprang out
+and down to the ground, a clear fifty feet, breaking his fall by
+catching and holding for an instant a swaying fir tip on the way. Then
+he rushed pell-mell over logs and rocks, and through the underbrush to
+a maple, and from that across a dozen trees to another giant spruce,
+where he ran up and down desperately over half the branches, crossing
+and crisscrossing his trail, and dropped panting at last into a little
+crevice under a broken limb. There he crouched into the smallest
+possible space and watched, with an awful fear in his eyes, the rough
+trunk below.
+
+Far behind him came Kagax, grim, relentless, silent as death. He paid
+no attention to scratching claws nor swaying branches, never looking
+for the jerking red tip of Meeko's tail, nor listening for the loud
+thump of his feet when he struck the ground. A pair of brave little
+flycatchers saw the chase and rushed at the common enemy, striking him
+with their beaks, and raising an outcry that brought a score of
+frightened, clamoring birds to the scene. But Kagax never heeded. His
+whole being seemed to be concentrated in the point of his nose. He
+followed like a bloodhound to the top of the second spruce, sniffed
+here and there till he caught the scent of Meeko's passage through the
+air, ran to the end of a branch in the same direction and leaped to
+the ground, landing not ten feet from the spot where the squirrel had
+struck a moment before. There he picked up the trail, followed over
+logs and rocks to the maple, up to the third branch, and across fifty
+yards of intervening branches to the giant spruce where his victim sat
+half paralyzed, watching from his crevice.
+
+Here Kagax was more deliberate. Left and right, up and down he went
+with deadly patience, from the lowest branch to the top, a hundred
+feet above, following every cross and winding of the trail. A dozen
+times he stopped, went back, picked up the fresher trail, and went on
+again. A dozen times he passed within a few feet of his victim,
+smelling him strongly, but scorning to use his eyes till his nose had
+done its perfect work. So he came to the last turn, followed the last
+branch, his nose to the bark, straight to the crevice under the broken
+branch, where Meeko crouched shivering, knowing it was all over.
+
+There was a cry, that no one heeded in the woods; there was a flash
+of sharp teeth, and the squirrel fell, striking the ground with a
+heavy thump. Kagax ran down the trunk, sniffed an instant at the body
+without touching it, and darted away to the form among the ferns. He
+had passed it at daylight when he was too heavy for killing.
+
+Halfway to the lake, he stopped; a thrilling song from a dead spruce
+top bubbled out over the darkening woods. When a hermit thrush sings
+like that, his nest is somewhere just below. Kagax began twisting in
+and out like a snake among the bushes, till a stir in a tangle of
+raspberry vines, which no ears but his or an owl's would ever notice,
+made him shrink close to the ground and look up. The red fire blazed
+in his eyes again; for there was Mother Thrush just settling onto her
+nest, not five feet from his head.
+
+To climb the raspberry vines without shaking them, and so alarming the
+bird, was out of the question; but there was a fire-blasted tree just
+behind. Kagax climbed it stealthily on the side away from the bird,
+crept to a branch over the nest, and leaped down. Mother Thrush was
+preening herself sleepily, feeling the grateful warmth of her eggs and
+listening to the wonderful song overhead, when the blow came. Before
+she knew what it was, the sharp teeth had met in her brain. The
+pretty nest would never again wait for a brooding mother in the
+twilight.
+
+All the while the wonderful song went on; for the hermit thrush,
+pouring his soul out, far above on the dead spruce top, heard not a
+sound of the tragedy below.
+
+Kagax flung the warm body aside savagely, bit through the ends of the
+three eggs, wishing they were young thrushes, and leaped to the
+ground. There he just tasted the brain of his victim to whet his
+appetite, listened a moment, crouching among the dead leaves, to the
+melody overhead, wishing it were darker, so that the hermit would come
+down and he could end his wicked work. Then he glided away to the
+young hares.
+
+There were five of them in the form, hidden among the coarse brakes of
+a little opening. Kagax went straight to the spot. A weasel never
+forgets. He killed them all, one after another, slowly, deliberately,
+by a single bite through the spine, tasting only the blood of the last
+one. Then he wriggled down among the warm bodies and waited, his nose
+to the path by which Mother Hare had gone away. He knew well she would
+soon be coming back.
+
+Presently he heard her, _put-a-put_, _put-a-put_, hopping along the
+path, with a waving line of ferns to show just where she was. Kagax
+wriggled lower among his helpless victims; his eyes blazed red again,
+so red that Mother Hare saw them and stopped short. Then Kagax sat up
+straight among the dead babies and screeched in her face.
+
+The poor creature never moved a step; she only crouched low before her
+own door and began to shiver violently. Kagax ran up to her; raised
+himself on his hind legs so as to place his fore paws on her neck;
+chose his favorite spot behind the ears, and bit. The hare
+straightened out, the quivering ceased. A tiny drop of blood followed
+the sharp teeth on either side. Kagax licked it greedily and hurried
+away, afraid to spoil his hunt by drinking.
+
+But he had scarcely entered the woods, running heedlessly, when the
+moss by a great stone stirred with a swift motion. There was a squeak
+of fright as Kagax jumped forward like lightning--but too late.
+Tookhees, the timid little wood mouse, who was digging under the moss
+for twin-flower roots to feed his little ones, had heard the enemy
+coming, and dove headlong into his hole, just in time to escape the
+snap of Kagax's teeth.
+
+That angered the fiery little weasel like poking a stick at him. To be
+caught napping, or to be heard running through the woods, is more than
+he can possibly stand. His eyes fairly snapped as he began digging
+furiously. Below, he could hear a chorus of faint squeaks, the clamor
+of young wood mice for their supper. But a few inches down, and the
+hole doubled under a round stone, then vanished between two roots
+close together. Try as he would, Kagax could only wear his claws out,
+without making any progress. He tried to force his shoulders through;
+for a weasel thinks he can go anywhere. But the hole was too small.
+Kagax cried out in rage and took up the trail. A dozen times he ran it
+from the hole to the torn moss, where Tookhees had been digging roots,
+and back again; then, sure that all the wood mice were inside, he
+tried to tear his way between the obstinate roots. As well try to claw
+down the tree itself.
+
+All the while Tookhees, who always has just such a turn in his tunnel,
+and who knows perfectly when he is safe, crouched just below the
+roots, looking up with steady little eyes, like two black beads, at
+his savage pursuer, and listening in a kind of dumb terror to his
+snarls of rage.
+
+Kagax gave it up at last and took to running in circles. Wider and
+wider he went, running swift and silent, his nose to the ground,
+seeking other mice on whom to wreak his vengeance. Suddenly he struck
+a fresh trail and ran it straight to the clearing where a foolish
+field mouse had built a nest in a tangle of dry brakes. Kagax caught
+and killed the mother as she rushed out in alarm. Then he tore the
+nest open and killed all the little ones. He tasted the blood of one
+and went on again.
+
+The failure to catch the wood mouse still rankled in his head and kept
+his eyes bright red. Suddenly he turned from his course along the lake
+shore; he began to climb the ridge. Up and up he went, crossing a
+dozen trails that ordinarily he would have followed, till he came to
+where a dead tree had fallen and lodged against a big spruce, near the
+summit. There he crouched in the underbrush and waited.
+
+Up near the top of the dead tree, a pair of pine martens had made
+their den in the hollow trunk, and reared a family of young martens
+that drew Kagax's evil thoughts like a magnet. The marten belongs to
+the weasel's own family; therefore, as a choice bit of revenge, Kagax
+would rather kill him than anything else. A score of times he had
+crouched in this same place and waited for his chance. But the marten
+is larger and stronger every way than the weasel, and, though shyer,
+almost as savage in a fight. And Kagax was afraid.
+
+But to-night Kagax was in a more vicious mood than ever before; and a
+weasel's temper is always the most vicious thing in the woods. He
+stole forward at last and put his nose to the foot of the leaning
+tree. Two fresh trails went out; none came back. Kagax followed them
+far enough to be sure that both martens were away hunting; then he
+turned and ran like a flash up the incline and into the den.
+
+In a moment he came out, licking his chops greedily. Inside, the young
+martens lay just as they had been left by the mother; only they began
+to grow very cold. Kagax ran to the great spruce, along a branch into
+another tree; then to the ground by a dizzy jump. There he ran swiftly
+for a good half hour in a long diagonal down towards the lake,
+crisscrossing his trail here and there as he ran.
+
+Once more his night's hunting began, with greater zeal than before. He
+was hungry now; his nose grew keen as a brier for every trail. A faint
+smell stopped him, so faint that the keenest-nosed dog or fox would
+have passed without turning, the smell of a brooding partridge on her
+eggs. There she was, among the roots of a pine, sitting close and
+blending perfectly with the roots and the brown needles. Kagax moved
+like a shadow; his nose found the bird; before she could spring he was
+on her back, and his teeth had done their evil work. Once more he
+tasted the fresh brains with keen relish. He broke all the eggs, so
+that none else might profit by his hunting, and went on again.
+
+On some moist ground, under a hemlock, he came upon the fresh trail of
+a wandering hare--no simple, unsuspecting mother, coming back to her
+babies, but a big, strong, suspicious fellow, who knew how to make a
+run for his life. Kagax was still fresh and eager; here was game that
+would stretch his muscles. The red lust of killing flamed into his
+eyes as he jumped away on the trail.
+
+Soon, by the long distances between tracks, he knew that the hare was
+startled. The scent was fresher now, so fresh that he could follow it
+in the air, without putting his nose to the ground.
+
+Suddenly a great commotion sounded among the bushes just ahead, where
+a moment before all was still. The hare had been lying there, watching
+his back track to see what was following. When he saw the red eyes of
+Kagax, he darted away wildly. A few hundred yards, and the foolish
+hare, who could run far faster than his pursuer, dropped in the bushes
+again to watch and see if the weasel was still after him.
+
+Kagax was following, swiftly, silently. Again the hare bounded away,
+only to stop and scare himself into fits by watching his own trail
+till the red eyes of the weasel blazed into view. So it went on for a
+half hour, through brush and brake and swamp, till the hare had lost
+all his wits and began to run wildly in small circles. Then Kagax
+turned, ran the back track a little way, and crouched flat on the
+ground.
+
+In a moment the hare came tearing along on his own trail--straight
+towards the yellow-brown ball under a fern tip. Kagax waited till he
+was almost run over; then he sprang up and screeched. That ended the
+chase. The hare just dropped on his fore paws. Kagax jumped for his
+head; his teeth met; the hunger began to gnaw, and he drank his fill
+greedily.
+
+For a time the madness of the chase seemed to be in the blood he
+drank. Keener than ever to kill, he darted away on a fresh trail. But
+soon his feast began to tell; his feet grew heavy. Angry at himself,
+he lay down to sleep their weight away.
+
+Far behind him, under the pine by the partridge's nest, a long dark
+shadow seemed to glide over the ground. A pointed nose touched the
+leaves here and there; over, the nose a pair of fierce little eyes
+glowed deep red as Kagax's own. So the shadow came to the partridge's
+nest, passed over it, minding not the scent of broken eggs nor of the
+dead bird, but only the scent of the weasel, and vanished into the
+underbrush on the trail.
+
+Kagax woke with a start and ran on. A big bullfrog croaked down on the
+shore. Kagax stalked and killed him, leaving his carcass untouched
+among the lily pads. A dead pine in a thicket attracted his suspicion.
+He climbed it swiftly, found a fresh round hole, and tumbled in upon a
+mother bird and a family of young woodpeckers. He killed them all,
+tasting the brains again, and hunted the tree over for the father
+bird, the great black logcock that makes the wilderness ring with his
+tattoo. But the logcock heard claws on the bark and flew to another
+tree, making a great commotion in the darkness as he blundered along,
+but not knowing what it was that had startled him.
+
+So the night wore on, with Kagax killing in every thicket, yet never
+satisfied with killing. He thought longingly of the hard winter, when
+game was scarce, and he had made his way out over the snow to the
+settlement, and lived among the chicken coops. "Twenty big hens in one
+roost--that was killing," snarled Kagax savagely, as he strangled two
+young herons in their nest, while the mother bird went on with her
+frogging, not ten yards away among the lily pads, and never heard a
+rustle.
+
+Toward morning he turned homeward, making his way back in a circle
+along the top of the ridge where his den was, and killing as he went.
+He had tasted too much; his feet grew heavier than they had ever been
+before. He thought angrily that he would have to sleep another whole
+day. And to sleep a whole day, while the wilderness was just beginning
+to swarm with life, filled Kagax with snarling rage.
+
+A mother hare darted away from her form as the weasel's wicked eyes
+looked in upon her. Kagax killed the little ones and had started after
+the mother, when a shiver passed over him and he turned back to
+listen. He had been moving more slowly of late; several times he had
+looked behind him with the feeling that he was followed. He stole back
+to the hare's form and lay hidden, watching his back track. He
+shivered again. "If it were not stronger than I, it would not follow
+my trail," thought Kagax. The fear of a hunted thing came upon him. He
+remembered the marten's den, the strangled young ones, the two trails
+that left the leaning tree. "They must have turned back long ago,"
+thought Kagax, and darted away. His back was cold now, cold as ice.
+
+But his feet grew very heavy ere he reached his den. A faint light
+began to show over the mountain across the lake. Killooleet, the
+white-throated sparrow, saw it, and his clear morning song tinkled
+out of the dark underbrush. Kagax's eyes glowed red again; he stole
+toward the sound for a last kill. Young sparrows' brains are a dainty
+dish; he would eat his fill, since he must sleep all day. He found the
+nest; he had placed his fore paws against the tree that held it, when
+he dropped suddenly; the shivers began to course all over him. Just
+below, from a stub in a dark thicket, a deep _Whooo-hoo-hoo!_ rolled
+out over the startled woods.
+
+It was Kookooskoos, the great horned owl, who generally hunts only in
+the evening twilight, but who, with growing young ones to feed,
+sometimes uses the morning twilight as well. Kagax lay still as a
+stone. Over him the sparrows, knowing the danger, crouched low in
+their nest, not daring to move a claw lest the owl should hear.
+
+Behind him the same shadow that had passed over the partridge's nest
+looked into the hare's form with fierce red eyes. It followed Kagax's
+trail over that of the mother hare, turned back, sniffed the earth,
+and came hurrying silently along the ridge.
+
+[Illustration: Kookooskoos]
+
+Kagax crept stealthily out of the thicket. He had an awful fear now of
+his feet; for, heavy with the blood he had eaten, they would rustle
+the leaves, or scratch on the stones, that all night long they had
+glided over in silence. He was near his den now. He could see the old
+pine that lightning had blasted, towering against the sky over the
+dark spruces.
+
+Again the deep _Whooo-hoo-hoo_! rolled over the hillside. To Kagax,
+who gloats over his killing except when he is afraid, it became an
+awful accusation. "Who has killed where he cannot eat? who strangled a
+brooding bird? who murdered his own kin?" came thundering through the
+woods. Kagax darted for his den. His hind feet struck a rotten twig
+that they should have cleared; it broke with a sharp snap. In an
+instant a huge shadow swept down from the stub and hovered over the
+sound. Two fierce yellow eyes looked in upon Kagax, crouching and
+trying to hide under a fir tip.
+
+Kagax whirled when the eyes found him and two sets of strong curved
+claws dropped down from the shadow. With a savage snarl he sprang up,
+and his teeth met; but no blood followed the bite, only a flutter of
+soft brown feathers. Then one set of sharp claws gripped his head;
+another set met deep in his back. Kagax was jerked swiftly into the
+air, and his evil doing was ended forever.
+
+There was a faint rustle in the thicket as the shadow of Kookooskoos
+swept away to his nest. The long lithe form of a pine marten glided
+straight to the fir tip, where Kagax had been a moment before. His
+movements were quick, nervous, silent; his eyes showed like two drops
+of blood over his twitching nostrils. He circled swiftly about the end
+of the lost trail. His nose touched a brown feather, another, and he
+glided back to the fir tip. A drop of blood was soaking slowly into a
+dead leaf. The marten thrust his nose into it. One long sniff, while
+his eyes blazed; then he raised his head, cried out once savagely, and
+glided away on the back track.
+
+
+
+
+IV. KOOKOOSKOOS, WHO CATCHES THE WRONG RAT.
+
+[Illustration: Kookooskoos]
+
+
+Kookooskoos is the big brown owl, the _Bubo Virginianus_, or Great
+Horned Owl of the books. But his Indian name is best. Almost any night
+in autumn, if you leave the town and go out towards the big woods, you
+can hear him calling it, _Koo-koo-skoos, koooo, kooo_, down in the
+swamp.
+
+Kookooskoos is always catching the wrong rat. The reason is that he is
+a great hunter, and thinks that every furry thing which moves must be
+game; and so he is like the fool sportsman who shoots at a sound, or a
+motion in the bushes, before finding out what makes it. Sometimes the
+rat turns out to be a skunk, or a weasel; sometimes your pet cat; and,
+once in a lifetime, it is your own fur cap, or even your head; and
+then you feel the weight and the edge of Kookooskoos' claws. But he
+never learns wisdom by mistakes; for, spite of his grave appearance,
+he is excitable as a Frenchman; and so, whenever anything stirs in the
+bushes and a bit of fur appears, he cries out to himself, _A rat,
+Kookoo! a rabbit!_ and swoops on the instant.
+
+Rats and rabbits are his favorite food, by the way, and he never lets
+a chance go by of taking them into camp. I think I never climbed to
+his nest without finding plenty of the fur of both animals to tell of
+his skill in hunting.
+
+One evening in the twilight, as I came home from hunting in the big
+woods, I heard the sound of deer feeding just ahead. I stole forward
+to the edge of a thicket and stood there motionless, looking and
+listening intently. My cap was in my pocket, and only my head appeared
+above the low firs that sheltered me. Suddenly, without noise or
+warning of any kind, I received a sharp blow on the head from behind,
+as if some one had struck me with a thorny stick. I turned quickly,
+surprised and a good bit startled; for I thought myself utterly alone
+in the woods--and I was. There was nobody there. Not a sound, not a
+motion broke the twilight stillness. Something trickled on my neck; I
+put up my hand, to find my hair already wet with blood. More startled
+than ever, I sprang through the thicket, looking, listening everywhere
+for sight or sound of my enemy. Still no creature bigger than a wood
+mouse; no movement save that of nodding fir tips; no sound but the
+thumping of my own heart, and, far behind me, a sudden rush and a bump
+or two as the frightened deer broke away; then perfect stillness
+again, as if nothing had ever lived in the thickets.
+
+I was little more than a boy; and I went home that night more puzzled
+and more frightened than I have ever been, before or since, in the
+woods. I ran into the doctor's office on my way. He found three cuts
+in my scalp, and below them two shorter ones, where pointed things
+seemed to have been driven through to the bone. He looked at me
+queerly when I told my story. Of course he did not believe me, and I
+made no effort to persuade him. Indeed, I scarcely believed myself.
+But for the blood which stained my handkerchief, and the throbbing
+pain in my head, I should have doubted the reality of the whole
+experience.
+
+That night I started up out of sleep, some time towards morning, and
+said before I was half awake: "It was an _owl_ that hit you on the
+head--of course it was an owl!" Then I remembered that, years before,
+an older boy had a horned owl, which he had taken from a nest, and
+which he kept loose in a dark garret over the shed. None of us younger
+boys dared go up to the garret, for the owl was always hungry, and the
+moment a boy's head appeared through the scuttle the owl said _Hoooo!_
+and swooped for it. So we used to get acquainted with the big pet by
+pushing in a dead rat, or a squirrel, or a chicken, on the end of a
+stick, and climbing in ourselves afterwards.
+
+As I write, the whole picture comes back to me again vividly; the
+dark, cobwebby old garret, pierced here and there by a pencil of
+light, in which the motes were dancing; the fierce bird down on the
+floor in the darkest corner, horns up, eyes gleaming, feathers all
+a-bristle till he looked big as a bushel basket in the dim light,
+standing on his game with one foot and tearing it savagely to pieces
+with the other, snapping his beak and gobbling up feathers, bones and
+all, in great hungry mouthfuls; and, over the scuttle, two or three
+small boys staring in eager curiosity, but clinging to each other's
+coats fearfully, ready to tumble down the ladder with a yell at the
+first hostile demonstration.
+
+The next afternoon I was back in the big woods to investigate. Fifty
+feet behind the thicket where I had been struck was a tall dead stub
+overlooking a little clearing. "That's his watch tower," I thought.
+"While I was watching the deer, he was up there watching my head, and
+when it moved he swooped."
+
+I had no intention of giving him another flight at the same game, but
+hid my fur cap some distance out in the clearing, tied a long string
+to it, went back into the thicket with the other end of the string,
+and sat down to wait. A low _Whooo-hoo-hoo!_ came from across the
+valley to tell me I was not the only watcher in the woods.
+
+Towards dusk I noticed suddenly that the top of the old stub looked a
+bit peculiar, but it was some time before I made out a big owl sitting
+up there. I had no idea how long he had been there, nor whence he
+came. His back was towards me; he sat up very straight and still, so
+as to make himself just a piece, the tip end, of the stub. As I
+watched, he hooted once and bent forward to listen. Then I pulled on
+my string.
+
+With the first rustle of a leaf he whirled and poised forward, in the
+intense attitude an eagle takes when he sights the prey. On the
+instant he had sighted the cap, wriggling in and out among the low
+bushes, and swooped for it like an arrow. Just as he dropped his legs
+to strike, I gave a sharp pull, and the cap jumped from under him. He
+missed his strike, but wheeled like a fury and struck again. Another
+jerk, and again he missed. Then he was at the thicket where I stood;
+his fierce yellow eyes glared straight into mine for a startled
+instant, and he brushed me with his wings as he sailed away into the
+shadow of the spruces.
+
+Small doubt now that I had seen my assailant of the night before; for
+an owl has regular hunting grounds, and uses the same watch towers
+night after night. He had seen my head in the thicket, and struck at
+the first movement. Perceiving his mistake, he kept straight on over
+my head; so of course there was nothing in sight when I turned. As an
+owl's flight is perfectly noiseless (the wing feathers are wonderfully
+soft, and all the laminae are drawn out into hair points, so that the
+wings never whirr nor rustle like other birds') I had heard nothing,
+though he passed close enough to strike, and I was listening intently.
+And so another mystery of the woods was made plain by a little
+watching.
+
+Years afterwards, the knowledge gained stood me in good stead in
+clearing up another mystery. It was in a lumber camp--always a
+superstitious place--in the heart of a Canada forest. I had followed a
+wandering herd of caribou too far one day, and late in the afternoon
+found myself alone at a river, some twenty miles from my camp, on the
+edge of the barren grounds. Somewhere above me I knew that a crew of
+lumbermen were at work; so I headed up river to find their camp, if
+possible, and avoid sleeping out in the snow and bitter cold. It was
+long after dark, and the moon was flooding forest and river with a
+wonderful light, when I at last caught sight of the camp. The click of
+my snowshoes brought a dozen big men to the door. At that moment I
+felt rather than saw that they seemed troubled and alarmed at seeing
+me alone; but I was too tired to notice, and no words save those of
+welcome were spoken until I had eaten heartily. Then, as I started out
+for another look at the wild beauty of the place under the moonlight,
+a lumberman followed and touched me on the shoulder.
+
+"Best not go far from camp alone, sir. 'T isn't above safe
+hereabouts," he said in a low voice. I noticed that he glanced back
+over his shoulder as he spoke.
+
+"But why?" I objected. "There's nothing in these woods to be afraid
+of."
+
+"Come back to camp and I'll tell you. It's warmer there," he said. And
+I followed to hear a strange story,--how "Andy there" was sitting on a
+stump, smoking his pipe in the twilight, when he was struck and cut on
+the head from behind; and when he sprang up to look, there was nothing
+there, nor any track save his own in the snow. The next night
+Gillie's fur cap had been snatched from his head, and when _he_ turned
+there was nobody in sight; and when he burst into camp, with all his
+wits frightened out of him, he could scarcely speak, and his face was
+deathly white. Other uncanny things had happened since, in the same
+way, and coupled with a bad accident on the river, which the men
+thought was an omen, they had put the camp into such a state of
+superstitious fear that no one ventured alone out of doors after
+nightfall.
+
+I thought of Kookooskoos and my own head, but said nothing. They would
+only have resented the suggestion.
+
+Next day I found my caribou, and returned to the lumber camp before
+sunset. At twilight there was Kookooskoos, an enormous fellow, looking
+like the end of a big spruce stub, keeping sharp watch over the
+clearing, and fortunately behind the camp where he could not see the
+door. I called the men and set them crouching in the snow under the
+low eaves.--"Stay there a minute and I'll show you the ghost." That
+was all I told them.
+
+Taking the skin of a hare which I had shot that day, I hoisted it
+cautiously on a stick, the lumbermen watching curiously. A slight
+scratch of the stick, a movement of the fur along the splits, then a
+great dark shadow shot over our heads. It struck the stick sharply
+and swept on and up into the spruces across the clearing, taking
+Bunny's skin with it.
+
+Then one big lumberman, who saw the point, jumped up with a yell and
+danced a jig in the snow, like a schoolboy. There was no need of
+further demonstration with a cap; and nobody volunteered his head for
+a final experiment; but all remembered seeing the owl on his nightly
+watch, and knew something of his swooping habits. Of course some were
+incredulous at first, and had a dozen questions and objections when we
+were in camp. No one likes to have a good ghost story spoiled; and,
+besides, where superstition is, there the marvelous is most easily
+believed. It is only the simple truth that is doubted. So I spent half
+the night in convincing them that they _had_ been brought up in the
+woods to be scared by an owl.
+
+Poor Kookooskoos! they shot him next night on his watch tower, and
+nailed him to the camp door as a warning.
+
+I discovered another curious thing about Kookooskoos that night when I
+watched to find out what had struck me. I found out why he hoots.
+Sometimes, if he is a young owl, he hoots for practice, or to learn
+how; and then he makes an awful noise of it, a rasping screech, before
+his voice deepens. And if you are camping near and are new to the
+woods, the chances are that you lie awake and shiver; for there is no
+other sound like it in the wilderness. Sometimes, when you climb to
+his nest, he has a terrifying _hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo_, running up
+and down a deep guttural scale, like a fiendish laugh, accompanied by
+a vicious snapping of the beak. And if you are a small boy, and it is
+towards twilight, you climb down the tree quick and let his nest
+alone. But the regular _whooo-hoo-hoo_, _whooo-hoo_, always five
+notes, with the second two very short, is a hunting call, and he uses
+it to alarm the game. That is queer hunting; but his ears account for
+it.
+
+If you separate the feathers on Kookooskoos' head, you will find an
+enormous ear-opening running from above his eye halfway round his
+face. And the ear within is so marvelously sensitive that it can hear
+the rustle of a rat in the grass, or the scrape of a sparrow's toes on
+a branch fifty feet away. So he sits on his watch tower, so still that
+he is never noticed, and as twilight comes on, when he can see best,
+he hoots suddenly and listens. The sound has a muffled quality which
+makes it hard to locate, and it frightens every bird and small animal
+within hearing; for all know Kookooskoos, and how fierce he is. As the
+terrifying sound rolls out of the air so near them, fur and feathers
+shiver with fright. A rabbit stirs in his form; a partridge shakes on
+his branch; the mink stops hunting frogs at the brook; the skunk takes
+his nose out of the hole where he is eating sarsaparilla roots. A leaf
+stirs, a toe scrapes, and instantly Kookooskoos is there. His fierce
+eyes glare in; his great claws drop; one grip, and it's all over. For
+the very sight of him scares the little creatures so, that there is no
+life left in them to cry out or to run away.
+
+A nest which I found a few years ago shows how well this kind of
+hunting succeeds. It was in a gloomy evergreen swamp, in a big tree,
+some eighty feet from the ground. I found it by a pile of pellets of
+hair and feathers at the foot of the tree; for the owl devours every
+part of his game, and after digestion is complete, feathers, bones,
+and hair are disgorged in small balls, like so many sparrow heads.
+When I looked up, there at the top was a huge mass of sticks, which
+had been added to year after year till it was nearly three feet
+across, and half as thick. Kookooskoos was not there. He had heard me
+coming and slipped away silently.
+
+Wishing to be sure the nest was occupied before trying the hard climb,
+I went away as far as I could see the nest and hid in a thicket.
+Presently a very large owl came back and stood by the nest. Soon
+after, a smaller bird, the male, glided up beside her. Then I came on
+cautiously, watching to see what they would do.
+
+At the first crack of a twig both birds started forward the male
+slipped away; the female dropped below the nest, and stood behind a
+limb, just her face peering through a crotch in my direction. Had I
+not known she was there, I might have looked the tree over twenty
+times without finding her. And there she stayed hidden till I was
+halfway up the tree.
+
+When I peered at last over the edge of the big nest, after a
+desperately hard climb, there was a bundle of dark gray down in a
+little hollow in the middle. It touched me at the time that the little
+ones rested on a feather bed pulled from the mother bird's own breast.
+I brushed the down with my fingers. Instantly two heads came up, fuzzy
+gray heads, with black pointed beaks, and beautiful hazel eyes, and a
+funny long pin-feather over each ear, which made them look like little
+wise old clerks just waked up. When I touched them again they
+staggered up and opened their mouths,--enormous mouths for such little
+fellows; then, seeing that I was an intruder, they tried to bristle
+their few pin-feathers and snap their beaks.
+
+They were fat as two aldermen; and no wonder. Placed around the edge
+of the big nest were a red squirrel, a rat, a chicken, a few frogs'
+legs, and a rabbit. Fine fare that, at eighty feet from the ground.
+Kookooskoos had had good hunting. All the game was partly eaten,
+showing I had disturbed their dinner; and only the hinder parts were
+left, showing that owls like the head and brains best. I left them
+undisturbed and came away; for I wanted to watch the young grow--which
+they did marvelously, and were presently learning to hoot. But I have
+been less merciful to the great owls ever since, thinking of the
+enormous destruction of game represented in raising two or three such
+young savages, year after year, in the same swamp.
+
+Once, at twilight, I shot a big owl that was sitting on a limb facing
+me, with what appeared to be an enormously long tail hanging below the
+limb. The tail turned out to be a large mink, just killed, with a
+beautiful skin that put five dollars into a boy's locker. Another time
+I shot one that sailed over me; when he came down, there was a ruffed
+grouse, still living, in his claws. Another time I could not touch one
+that I had killed for the overpowering odor which was in his feathers,
+showing that _Mephitis_, the skunk, never loses his head when
+attacked. But Kookooskoos, like the fox, cares little for such
+weapons, and in the spring, when game is scarce, swoops for and kills
+a skunk wherever he finds him prowling away from his den in the
+twilight.
+
+The most savage bit of his hunting that I ever saw was one dark winter
+afternoon, on the edge of some thick woods. I was watching a cat, a
+half-wild creature, that was watching a red squirrel making a great
+fuss over some nuts which he had hidden, and which he claimed somebody
+had stolen. Somewhere behind us, Kookooskoos was watching from a pine
+tree. The squirrel was chattering in the midst of a whirlwind of
+leaves and empty shells which he had thrown out on the snow from under
+the wall; behind him the cat, creeping nearer and nearer, had crouched
+with blazing eyes and quivering muscles, her whole attention fixed on
+the spring, when broad wings shot silently over my hiding place and
+fell like a shadow on the cat. One set of strong claws gripped her
+behind the ears; the others were fastened like a vise in the spine.
+Generally one such grip is enough; but the cat was strong, and at the
+first touch sprang away. In a moment the owl was after her, floating,
+hovering above, till the right moment came, when he dropped and struck
+again. Then the cat whirled and fought like a fury. For a few moments
+there was a desperate battle, fur and feathers flying, the cat
+screeching like mad, the owl silent as death. Then the great claws did
+their work. When I straightened up from my thicket, Kookooskoos was
+standing on his game, tearing off the flesh with his feet, and
+carrying it up to his mouth with the same movement, swallowing
+everything alike, as if famished.
+
+Over them the squirrel, which had whisked up a tree at the first
+alarm, was peeking with evil eyes over the edge of a limb, snickering
+at the blood-stained snow and the dead cat, scolding, barking,
+threatening the owl for having disturbed the search for his stolen
+walnuts.
+
+I caught that same owl soon after in a peculiar way. A farmer near by
+told me that an owl was taking his chickens regularly. Undoubtedly the
+bird had been driven southward by the severe winter, and had not taken
+up regular hunting grounds until he caught the cat. Then came the
+chickens. I set up a pole, on the top of which was nailed a bit of
+board for a platform. On the platform was fastened a small steel trap,
+and under it hung a dead chicken. The next morning there was
+Kookooskoos on the platform, one foot in the trap, at which he was
+pulling awkwardly. Owls, from their peculiar ways of hunting, are
+prone to light on stubs and exposed branches; and so Kookooskoos had
+used my pole as a watch tower before carrying off his game.
+
+There is another way in which he is easily fooled. In the early
+spring, when he is mating, and again in the autumn, when the young
+birds are well fed and before they have learned much, you can bring
+him close up to you by imitating his hunting call. In the wilderness,
+where these birds are plenty, I have often had five or six about me at
+once. You have only to go well out beyond your tent, and sit down
+quietly, making yourself part of the place. Give the call a few times,
+and if there is a young bird near with a full stomach, he will answer,
+and presently come nearer. Soon he is in the tree over your head, and
+if you keep perfectly still he will set up a great hooting that you
+have called him and now do not answer. Others are attracted by his
+calling; they come in silently from all directions; the outcry is
+startling. The call is more nervous, more eerie, much more terrifying
+close at hand than when heard in the distance. They sweep about like
+great dark shadows, hoo-hoo-hooing and frolicking in their own uncanny
+way; then go off to their separate watch towers and their hunting. But
+the chances are that you will be awakened with a start more than once
+in the night, as some inquisitive young owl comes back and gives the
+hunting call in the hope of finding out what the first summons was all
+about.
+
+
+
+
+V. CHIGWOOLTZ THE FROG.
+
+[Illustration: Chigwooltz]
+
+
+I was watching for a bear one day by an alder point, when Chigwooltz
+came swimming in from the lily pads in great curiosity to see what I
+was doing under the alders. He was an enormous frog, dull green with a
+yellowish vest--which showed that he was a male--but with the most
+brilliant ear drums I had ever seen. They fairly glowed with
+iridescent color, each in its ring of bright yellow. When I tried to
+catch him (very quietly, for the bear was somewhere just above on the
+ridge) in order to examine these drums, he dived under the canoe and
+watched me from a distance.
+
+In front of me, in the shallow water along shore, four more large
+frogs were sunning themselves among the lily pads. I watched them
+carelessly while waiting for the bear. After an hour or two I noticed
+that three of these frogs changed their positions slightly, turning
+from time to time so as to warm the entire body at nature's fireplace.
+But the fourth was more deliberate and philosophical, thinking
+evidently that if he simply sat still long enough the sun would do the
+turning. When I came, about eleven o'clock, he was sitting on the
+shore by a green stone, his fore feet lapped by tiny ripples, the sun
+full on his back. For three hours, while I watched there, he never
+moved a muscle. Then the bear came, and I left him for more exciting
+things.
+
+Late in the afternoon I came back to get some of the big frogs for
+breakfast. Chigwooltz, he with the ear drums, was the first to see me,
+and came pushing his way among the lily pads toward the canoe. But
+when I dangled a red ibis fly in front of him, he dived promptly, and
+I saw his head come up by a black root, where he sat, thinking himself
+invisible, and watched me.
+
+Chigwooltz the second, he of the green stone and the patient
+disposition, was still sitting in the same place. The sun had turned
+round; it was now warming his other side. His all-day sun bath
+surprised me so that I let him alone, to see how long he would sit
+still, and went fishing for other frogs.
+
+Two big ones showed their heads among the pads some twenty feet apart.
+Pushing up so as to make a triangle with my canoe, I dangled a red
+ibis impartially between them. For two or three long minutes neither
+moved so much as an eyelid. Then one seemed to wake suddenly from a
+trance, or to be touched by an electric wire, for he came scrambling
+in a desperate hurry over the lily pads. Swimming was too slow; he
+jumped fiercely out of water at the red challenge, making a great
+splash and commotion.
+
+Fishing for big frogs, by the way, is no tame sport. The red seems to
+excite them tremendously, and they take the fly like a black salmon.
+
+But the moment the first frog started, frog number two waked up and
+darted forward, making less noise but coming more swiftly. The first
+frog had jumped once for the fly and missed it, when the other leaped
+upon him savagely, and a fight began, while the ibis lay neglected on
+a lily pad. They pawed and bit each other fiercely for several
+minutes; then the second frog, a little smaller than the other, got
+the grip he wanted and held it. He clasped his fore legs tight about
+his rival's neck and began to strangle him slowly. I knew well how
+strong Chigwooltz is in his forearms, and that his fightings and
+wrestlings are desperate affairs; but I did not know till then how
+savage he can be. He had gripped from behind by a clever dive, so as
+to use his weight when the right moment came. Tighter and tighter he
+hugged; the big frog's eyes seemed bursting from his head, and his
+mouth was forced slowly open. Then his savage opponent lunged upon him
+with his weight, and forced his head under water to finish him.
+
+The whole thing seemed scarcely more startling to the luckless big
+frog than to the watcher in the canoe. It was all so brutal, so
+deliberately planned! The smaller frog, knowing that he was no match
+for the other in strength, had waited cunningly till he was all
+absorbed in the red fly, and then stole upon him, intending to finish
+him first and the little red thing afterwards. He would have done it
+too; for the big frog was at his last gasp, when I interfered and put
+them both in my net.
+
+Meanwhile a third frog had come _walloping_ over the lily pads from
+somewhere out of sight, and grabbed the fly while the other two were
+fighting about it. It was he who first showed me a curious frog trick.
+When I lifted him from the water on the end of my line, he raised his
+hands above his head, as if he had been a man, and grasped the line,
+and tried to lift himself, hand over hand, so as to take the strain
+from his mouth.--And I could never catch another frog like that.
+
+Next morning, as I went to the early fishing, Chigwooltz, the
+patient, sat by the same stone, his fore feet at the edge of the same
+bronze lily leaf. At noon he was still there; in twenty-four hours at
+least he had not moved a muscle.
+
+At twilight I was following a bear along the shore. It was the
+restless season, when bears are moving constantly; scarcely a twilight
+passed that I did not meet one or more on their wanderings. This one
+was heading for the upper end of the lake, traveling in the shallow
+water near shore; and I was just behind him, stealing along in my
+canoe to see what queer thing he would do. He was in no hurry, as most
+other bears were, but went nosing along shore, acting much as a fat
+pig would in the same place. As he approached the alder point he
+stopped suddenly, and twisted his head a bit, and set his ears, as a
+dog does that sees something very interesting. Then he began to steal
+forward. Could it be--I shot my canoe forward--yes, it was Chigwooltz,
+still sitting by the green stone, with his eye, like Bunsby's, on the
+coast of Greenland. In thirty-two hours, to my knowledge, he had not
+stirred.
+
+Mooween the bear crept nearer; he was crouching now like a cat,
+stealing along in the soft mud behind Chigwooltz so as to surprise
+him. I saw him raise one paw slowly, cautiously, high above his head.
+Down it came, _souse_! sending up a shower of mud and water. And
+Chigwooltz the restful, who could sit still thirty-two hours without
+getting stiff in the joints, and then dodge the sweep of Mooween's
+paw, went splashing away _hippety-ippety_ over the lily pads to some
+water grass, where he said _K'tung!_ and disappeared for good.
+
+A few days later Simmo and I moved camp to a grove of birches just
+above the alder point. From behind my tent an old game path led down
+to the bay where the big frogs lived. There were scores of them there;
+the chorus at night, with its multitude of voices running from a
+whistling treble to deep, deep bass, was at times tremendous. It was
+here that I had the first good opportunity of watching frogs feeding.
+
+Chigwooltz, I found, is a perfect gourmand and a cannibal, eating,
+besides his regular diet of flies and beetles and water snails, young
+frogs, and crawfish, and turtles, and fish of every kind. But few have
+ever seen him at his hunting, for he is active only at night or on
+dark days.
+
+I used to watch them from the shore or from my canoe at twilight. Just
+outside the lily pads a shoal of minnows would be playing at the
+surface, or small trout would be rising freely for the night insects.
+Then, if you watched sharply, you would see gleaming points of light,
+the eyes of Chigwooltz, stealing out, with barely a ripple, to the
+edge of the pads. And then, when some big feeding trout drove the
+minnows or small fry close in, there would be a heavy plunge from the
+shadow of the pads; and you would hear Chigwooltz splashing if the
+fish were a larger one than he expected.
+
+That is why small frogs are so deadly afraid if you take them outside
+the fringe of lily pads. They know that big hungry trout feed in from
+the deeps, and that big frogs, savage cannibals every one, watch out
+from the shadowy fringe of water plants. If you drop a little frog
+there, in clear water, he will shoot in as fast as his frightened legs
+will drive him, swimming first on top to avoid fish, diving deep as he
+reaches the pads to avoid his hungry relatives; and so in to shallow
+water and thick stems, where he can dodge about and the big frogs
+cannot follow.
+
+All sorts and conditions of frogs lived in that little bay. There was
+one inquisitive fellow, who always came out of the pads and swam as
+near as he could get whenever I appeared on the shore. Another would
+sit in his favorite spot, under a stranded log, and let me come as
+close as I would; but the moment I dangled the red ibis fly in front
+of him, he would disappear like a wink, and not show himself again.
+Another would follow the fly in a wild kangaroo dance over the lily
+pads, going round and round the canoe as if bewitched, and would do
+his best to climb in after the bit of color when I pulled it up slowly
+over the bark. He afforded me so much good fun that I could not eat
+him; though I always stopped to give him another dance, whenever I
+went fishing for other frogs just like him. Further along shore lived
+another, a perfect savage, so wild that I could never catch him, which
+strangled or drowned two big frogs in a week, to my certain knowledge.
+And then, one night when I was trying to find my canoe which I had
+lost in the darkness, I came upon a frog migration, dozens and dozens
+of them, all hopping briskly in the same direction. They had left the
+stream, driven by some strange instinct, just like rats or squirrels,
+and were going through the woods to the unknown destination that
+beckoned them so strongly that they could not but follow.
+
+The most curious and interesting bit of their strange life came out at
+night, when they were fascinated by my light. I used sometimes to set
+a candle on a piece of board for a float, and place it in the water
+close to shore, where the ripples would set it dancing gently. Then I
+would place a little screen of bark at the shore end of the float,
+and sit down behind it in darkness.
+
+[Illustration: Chigwooltz]
+
+Presently two points of light would begin to shine, then to
+scintillate, out among the lily pads, and Chigwooltz would come
+stealing in, his eyes growing bigger and brighter with wonder. He
+would place his forearms akimbo on the edge of the float, and lift
+himself up a bit, like a little old man, and stare steadfastly at the
+light. And there he would stay as long as I let him, just staring and
+blinking.
+
+Soon two other points of light would come stealing in from the other
+side, and another frog would set his elbows on the float and stare
+hard across at the first-comer. And then two more shining points, and
+two more, till twelve or fifteen frogs were gathered about my beacon,
+as thick as they could find elbow room on the float, all staring and
+blinking like so many strange water owls come up from the bottom to
+debate weighty things, with a little flickering will-o'-the-wisp
+nodding grave assent in the midst of them. But never a word was
+spoken; the silence was perfect.
+
+Sometimes one, more fascinated or more curious than the others, would
+climb onto the float, and put his nose solemnly into the light. Then
+there would be a loud sizzle, a jump, and a splash; the candle would
+go out, and the wondering circle of frogs scatter to the lily pads
+again, all swimming as if in a trance, dipping their heads under water
+to wash the light from their bewildered eyes.
+
+They were quite fearless, almost senseless, at such times. I would
+stretch out my hand from the shadow, pick up an unresisting frog that
+threatened too soon to climb onto the float, and examine him at
+leisure. But Chigwooltz is wedded to his idols; the moment I released
+him he would go, fast as his legs could carry him, to put his elbows
+on the float and stare at the light again.
+
+Among the frogs, and especially among the toads, as among most wild
+animals, certain individuals attach themselves strongly to man, drawn
+doubtless by some unknown but no less strongly felt attraction. It was
+so there in the wilderness. The first morning after our arrival at the
+birch grove I was down at the shore, preparing a trout for baking in
+the ashes, when Chigwooltz, of the ear drums, biggest of all the
+frogs, came from among the lily pads. He had lost all fear apparently;
+he swam directly up to me, touching my hands with his nose, and even
+crawling out to my feet in the greatest curiosity.
+
+After that he took up his abode near the foot of the game path. I had
+only to splash the water there with my finger when he would come from
+beside a green stone, or from under a log or the lily pads--for he
+had a dozen hiding places--and swim up to me to be fed, or petted, or
+to have his back scratched.
+
+He ate all sorts of things, insects, bread, beef, game and fish,
+either raw or cooked. I would attach a bit of meat to a string or
+straw, and wiggle it before him, to make it seem alive. The moment he
+saw it (he had a queer way sometimes of staring hard at a thing
+without seeing it) he would crouch and creep towards it, nearer and
+nearer, softly and more softly, like a cat stalking a chipmunk. Then
+there would be a red flash and the meat would be gone. The red flash
+was his tongue, which is attached at the outer end and folds back in
+his mouth. It is, moreover, large and sticky, and he can throw it out
+and back like lightning. All you see is the red flash of it, and his
+game is gone.
+
+One day, to try the effects of nicotine on a new subject, I took a bit
+of Simmo's black tobacco and gave it to Chigwooltz. He ate it
+thankfully, as he did everything else I gave him. In a little while he
+grew uneasy, sitting up and rubbing his belly with his fore paws.
+Presently he brought his stomach up into his mouth, turned it inside
+out to get rid of the tobacco, washed it thoroughly in the lake,
+swallowed it down again, and was ready for his bread and beef. A most
+convenient arrangement that; and also a perfectly unbiased opinion on
+a much debated subject.
+
+Chigwooltz, unlike many of my pets, was not in the least dependent on
+my bounty. Indeed, he was a remarkable hunter on his own account, and
+what he took from me he took as hospitality, not charity. One morning
+he came to me with the tail of a small trout sticking out of his
+mouth. The rest of the fish was below, being digested. Another day,
+towards twilight, I saw him resting on the lily pads, looking very
+full, with a suspicious-looking object curling out over his under lip.
+I wiggled my finger in the water, and he came from pure sociability,
+for he was beyond eating any more. The suspicious-looking object
+proved to be a bird's foot, and beside it was a pointed wing tip. That
+was too much for my curiosity. I opened his mouth and pulled out the
+bird with some difficulty, for Chigwooltz had been engaged some time
+in the act of swallowing his game and had it well down. It proved to
+be a full-grown male swallow, without a mark anywhere to show how he
+had come by his death. Chigwooltz looked at me reproachfully, but
+swallowed his game promptly the moment I had finished examining it.
+
+There was small doubt in my mind that he had caught his bird fairly,
+by a quick spring as the swallow touched the water almost at his
+nose, near one of his numerous lurking places. Still it puzzled me a
+good deal till one early morning, when I saw him in broad daylight do
+a much more difficult thing than snapping up a swallow.
+
+I was coming down the game path to the shore when a bird, a tree
+sparrow I thought, flew to the ground just ahead of me, and hopped to
+the water to drink. I watched him a moment curiously, then with
+intense interest as I saw a ripple steal out of the lily pads towards
+him. The ripple was Chigwooltz.
+
+The sparrow had finished drinking and was absorbed in a morning bath.
+Chigwooltz stole nearer and nearer, sinking himself till only his eyes
+showed above water. The ripple that flowed away on either side was
+gentle as that of a floating leaf. Then, just as the bird had sipped
+and lifted its head for a last swallow, Chigwooltz hurled himself out
+of water. One snap of his big mouth, and the sparrow was done for.
+
+An hour later, when I came down to my canoe, he was sitting low on the
+lily pads, winking sleepily now and then, with eight little sparrow's
+toes curling over the rim of his under lip, like a hornpout's
+whiskers.
+
+
+
+
+VI. CLOUD WINGS THE EAGLE.
+
+[Illustration: Old Whitehead]
+
+
+"Here he is again! here's Old Whitehead, robbing the fish-hawk."
+
+I started up from the little _commoosie_ beyond the fire, at Gillie's
+excited cry, and ran to join him on the shore. A glance out over
+Caribou Point to the big bay, where innumerable whitefish were
+shoaling, showed me another chapter in a long but always interesting
+story. Ismaquehs, the fish-hawk, had risen from the lake with a big
+fish, and was doing his best to get away to his nest, where his young
+ones were clamoring. Over him soared the eagle, still as fate and as
+sure, now dropping to flap a wing in Ismaquehs' face, now touching him
+with his great talons gently, as if to say, "Do you feel that,
+Ismaquehs? If I grip once 't will be the end of you and your fish
+together. And what will the little ones do then, up in the nest on
+the old pine? Better drop him peacefully; you can catch
+another.--_Drop him_! I say."
+
+[Illustration: Ismaquehs]
+
+Up to that moment the eagle had merely bothered the big hawk's flight,
+with a gentle reminder now and then that he meant no harm, but wanted
+the fish which he could not catch himself. Now there was a change, a
+flash of the king's temper. With a roar of wings he whirled round the
+hawk like a tempest, bringing up short and fierce, squarely in his
+line of flight. There he poised on dark broad wings, his yellow eyes
+glaring fiercely into the shrinking soul of Ismaquehs, his talons
+drawn hard back for a deadly strike. And Simmo the Indian, who had run
+down to join me, muttered: "Cheplahgan mad now. Ismaquehs find-um out
+in a minute."
+
+But Ismaquehs knew just when to stop. With a cry of rage he dropped,
+or rather threw, his fish, hoping it would strike the water and be
+lost. On the instant the eagle wheeled out of the way and bent his
+head sharply. I had seen him fold wings and drop before, and had held
+my breath at the speed. But dropping was of no use now, for the fish
+fell faster. Instead he swooped downward, adding to the weight of his
+fall the push of his strong wings, glancing down like a bolt to catch
+the fish ere it struck the water, and rising again in a great
+curve--up and away steadily, evenly as the king should fly, to his
+own little ones far away on the mountain.
+
+Weeks before, I had had my introduction to Old Whitehead, as Gillie
+called him, on the Madawaska. We were pushing up river on our way to
+the wilderness, when a great outcry and the _bang-bang_ of a gun
+sounded just ahead. Dashing round a wooded bend, we came upon a man
+with a smoking gun, a boy up to his middle in the river, trying to get
+across, and, on the other side, a black sheep running about _baaing_
+at every jump.
+
+"He's taken the lamb; he's taken the lamb!" shouted the boy. Following
+the direction of his pointing finger, I saw Old Whitehead, a splendid
+bird, rising heavily above the tree-tops across the clearing. Reaching
+back almost instinctively, I clutched the heavy rifle which Gillie put
+into my hand and jumped out of the canoe; for with a rifle one wants
+steady footing. It was a long shot, but not so very difficult; Old
+Whitehead had got his bearings and was moving steadily, straight away.
+A second after the report of the rifle, we saw him hitch and swerve in
+the air; then two white quills came floating down, and as he turned we
+saw the break in his broad white tail. And that was the mark that we
+knew him by ever afterwards.
+
+That was nearly eighty miles by canoe from where we now stood, though
+scarcely ten in a straight line over the mountains; for the rivers and
+lakes we were following doubled back almost to the starting point; and
+the whole wild, splendid country was the eagle's hunting ground.
+Wherever I went I saw him, following the rivers for stranded trout and
+salmon, or floating high in air where he could overlook two or three
+wilderness lakes, with as many honest fish-hawks catching their
+dinners. I had promised the curator of a museum that I would get him
+an eagle that summer, and so took to hunting the great bird
+diligently. But hunting was of little use, except to teach me many of
+his ways and habits; for he seemed to have eyes and ears all over him;
+and whether I crept like a snake through the woods, or floated like a
+wild duck in my canoe over the water, he always saw or heard me, and
+was off before I could get within shooting distance.
+
+Then I tried to trap him. I placed two large trout, with a steel trap
+between them, in a shallow spot on the river that I could watch from
+my camp on a bluff, half a mile below. Next day Gillie, who was more
+eager than I, set up a shout; and running out I saw Old Whitehead
+standing in the shallows and flopping about the trap. We jumped into a
+canoe and pushed up river in hot haste, singing in exultation that we
+had the fierce old bird at last. When we doubled the last point that
+hid the shallows, there was Old Whitehead, still tugging away at a
+fish, and splashing the water not thirty yards away. I shall not soon
+forget his attitude and expression as we shot round the point, his
+body erect and rigid, his wings half spread, his head thrust forward,
+eyelids drawn straight, and a strong fierce gleam of freedom and utter
+wildness in his bright eyes. So he stood, a magnificent creature, till
+we were almost upon him,--when he rose quietly, taking one of the
+trout. The other was already in his stomach. He was not in the trap at
+all, but had walked carefully round it. The splashing was made in
+tearing one fish to pieces with his claws, and freeing the other from
+a stake that held it.
+
+After that he would not go near the shallows; for a new experience had
+come into his life, leaving its shadow dark behind it. He who was king
+of all he surveyed from the old blasted pine on the crag's top, who
+had always heretofore been the hunter, now knew what it meant to be
+hunted. And the fear of it was in his eyes, I think, and softened
+their fierce gleam when I looked into them again, weeks later, by his
+own nest on the mountain.
+
+Simmo entered also into our hunting, but without enthusiasm or
+confidence. He had chased the same eagle before--all one summer, in
+fact, when a sportsman, whom he was guiding, had offered him twenty
+dollars for the royal bird's skin. But Old Whitehead still wore it
+triumphantly; and Simmo prophesied for him long life and a natural
+death. "No use hunt-um dat heagle," he said simply. "I try once an'
+can't get near him. He see everyt'ing; and wot he don't see, he hear.
+'Sides, he kin _feel_ danger. Das why he build nest way off, long
+ways, O don' know where." This last with a wave of his arm to include
+the universe. Cheplahgan, Old Cloud Wings, he proudly called the bird
+that had defied him in a summer's hunting.
+
+At first I had hunted him like any other savage; partly, of course, to
+get his skin for the curator; partly, perhaps, to save the settler's
+lambs over on the Madawaska; but chiefly just to kill him, to exult in
+his death flaps, and to rid the woods of a cruel tyrant. Gradually,
+however, a change came over me as I hunted; I sought him less and less
+for his skin and his life, and more and more for himself, to know all
+about him. I used to watch him by the hour from my camp on the big
+lake, sailing quietly over Caribou Point, after he had eaten with his
+little ones, and was disposed to let Ismaquehs go on with his fishing
+in peace. He would set his great wings to the breeze and sit like a
+kite in the wind, mounting steadily in an immense spiral, up and up,
+without the shadow of effort, till the eye grew dizzy in following.
+And I loved to watch him, so strong, so free, so sure of
+himself--round and round, up and ever up, without hurry, without
+exertion; and every turn found the heavens nearer and the earth spread
+wider below. Now head and tail gleam silver white in the sunshine now
+he hangs motionless, a cross of jet that a lady might wear at her
+throat, against the clear, unfathomable blue of the June
+heavens--there! he is lost in the blue, so high that I cannot see any
+more. But even as I turn away he plunges down into vision again,
+dropping with folded wings straight down like a plummet, faster and
+faster, larger and larger, through a terrifying rush of air, till I
+spring to my feet and catch the breath, as if I myself were falling.
+And just before he dashes himself to pieces he turns in the air, head
+downward, and half spreads his wings, and goes shooting, slanting down
+towards the lake, then up in a great curve to the tree tops, where he
+can watch better what Kakagos, the rare woods-raven, is doing, and
+what game he is hunting. For that is what Cheplahgan came down in such
+a hurry to find out about.
+
+Again he would come in the early morning; sweeping up river as if he
+had already been a long day's journey, with the air of far-away and
+far-to-go in his onward rush. And if I were at the trout pools, and
+very still, I would hear the strong silken rustle of his wings as he
+passed. At midday I would see him poised over the highest mountain-top
+northward, at an enormous altitude, where the imagination itself could
+not follow the splendid sweep of his vision; and at evening he would
+cross the lake, moving westward into the sunset on tireless
+pinions--always strong, noble, magnificent in his power and
+loneliness, a perfect emblem of the great lonely magnificent
+wilderness.
+
+One day as I watched him, it swept over me suddenly that forest and
+river would be incomplete without him. The thought of this came back
+to me, and spared him to the wilderness, on the last occasion when I
+went hunting for his life.
+
+That was just after we reached the big lake, where I saw him robbing
+the fish-hawk. After much searching and watching I found a great log
+by the outlet where Old Whitehead often perched. There was a big eddy
+hard by, on the edge of a shallow, and he used to sit on the log,
+waiting for fish to come out where he could wade in and get them.
+There was a sickness among the suckers that year (it comes regularly
+every few years, as among rabbits), and they would come struggling out
+of the deep water to rest on the sand, only to be caught by the minks
+and fish-hawks and bears and Old Whitehead, all of whom were waiting
+and hungry for fish.
+
+For several days I put a big bait of trout and whitefish on the edge
+of the shallows. The first two baits were put out late in the
+afternoon, and a bear got them both the next night. Then I put them
+out in the early morning, and before noon Cheplahgan had found them.
+He came straight as a string from his watch place over the mountain,
+miles away, causing me to wonder greatly what strange sixth sense
+guided him; for sight and smell seemed equally out of the question.
+The next day he came again. Then I placed the best bait of all in the
+shallows, and hid in the dense underbrush near, with my gun.
+
+He came at last, after hours of waiting, dropping from above the
+tree-tops with a heavy rustling of pinions. And as he touched the old
+log, and spread his broad white tail, I saw and was proud of the gap
+which my bullet had made weeks before. He stood there a moment erect
+and splendid, head, neck, and tail a shining white; even the dark
+brown feathers of his body glinted in the bright sunshine. And he
+turned his head slowly from side to side, his keen eyes flashing, as
+if he would say, "Behold, a king!" to Chigwooltz the frog, and
+Tookhees the wood mouse, and to any other chance wild creature that
+might watch him from the underbrush at his unkingly act of feeding on
+dead fish. Then he hopped down--rather awkwardly, it must be
+confessed; for he is a creature of the upper deeps, who cannot bear to
+touch the earth--seized a fish, which he tore to pieces with his claws
+and ate greedily. Twice I tried to shoot him; but the thought of the
+wilderness without him was upon me, and held me back. Then, too, it
+seemed so mean to pot him from ambush when he had come down to earth,
+where he was at a disadvantage; and when he clutched some of the
+larger fish in his talons, and rose swiftly and bore away westward,
+all desire to kill him was gone. There were little Cloud Wings, it
+seemed, which I must also find and watch. After that I hunted him more
+diligently than before, but without my gun. And a curious desire,
+which I could not account for, took possession of me: to touch this
+untamed, untouched creature of the clouds and mountains.
+
+Next day I did it. There were thick bushes growing along one end of
+the old log on which the eagle rested. Into these I cut a tunnel with
+my hunting-knife, arranging the tops in such a way as to screen me
+more effectively. Then I put out my bait, a good two hours before the
+time of Old Whitehead's earliest appearance, and crawled into my den
+to wait.
+
+I had barely settled comfortably into my place, wondering how long
+human patience could endure the sting of insects and the hot close air
+without moving or stirring a leaf, when the heavy silken rustle
+sounded close at hand, and I heard the grip of his talons on the log.
+There he stood, at arm's length, turning his head uneasily, the light
+glinting on his white crest, the fierce, untamed flash in his bright
+eye. Never before had he seemed so big, so strong, so splendid; my
+heart jumped at the thought of him as our national emblem. I am glad
+still to have seen that emblem once, and felt the thrill of it.
+
+But I had little time to think, for Cheplahgan was restless. Some
+instinct seemed to warn him of a danger that he could not see. The
+moment his head was turned away, I stretched out my arm. Scarcely a
+leaf moved with the motion, yet he whirled like a flash and crouched
+to spring, his eyes glaring straight into mine with an intensity that
+I could scarce endure. Perhaps I was mistaken, but in that swift
+instant the hard glare in his eyes seemed to soften with fear, as he
+recognized me as the one thing in the wilderness that dared to hunt
+him, the king. My hand touched him fair on the shoulder; then he shot
+into the air, and went sweeping in great circles over the tree-tops,
+still looking down at the man, wondering and fearing at the way in
+which he had been brought into the man's power.
+
+But one thing he did not understand. Standing erect on the log, and
+looking up at him as he swept over me, I kept thinking, "I did it, I
+did it, Cheplahgan, old Cloud Wings. And I had grabbed your legs, and
+pinned you down, and tied you in a bag, and brought you to camp, but
+that I chose to let you go free. And that is better than shooting you.
+Now I shall find your little ones and touch them too."
+
+For several days I had been watching Old Whitehead's lines of flight,
+and had concluded that his nest was somewhere in the hills northwest
+of the big lake. I went there one afternoon, and while confused in the
+big timber, which gave no outlook in any direction, I saw, not Old
+Whitehead, but a larger eagle, his mate undoubtedly, flying straight
+westward with food towards a great cliff, that I had noticed with my
+glass one day from a mountain on the other side of the lake.
+
+When I went there, early next morning, it was Cheplahgan himself who
+showed me where his nest was. I was hunting along the foot of the
+cliff when, glancing back towards the lake, I saw him coming far
+away, and hid in the underbrush. He passed very near, and following, I
+saw him standing on a ledge near the top of the cliff. Just below him,
+in the top of a stunted tree growing out of the face of the rock was a
+huge mass of sticks that formed the nest, with a great mother-eagle
+standing by, feeding the little ones. Both birds started away silently
+when I appeared, but came back soon and swept back and forth over me,
+as I sat watching the nest and the face of the cliff through my glass.
+No need now of caution. Both birds seemed to know instinctively why I
+had come, and that the fate of the eaglets lay in my hands if I could
+but scale the cliff.
+
+It was scaring business, that three-hundred-foot climb up the sheer
+face of the mountain. Fortunately the rock was seamed and scarred with
+the wear of centuries; bushes and stunted trees grew out of countless
+crevices, which gave me sure footing, and sometimes a lift of a dozen
+feet or more on my way up. As I climbed, the eagles circled lower and
+lower; the strong rustling of their wings was about my head
+continually; they seemed to grow larger, fiercer, every moment, as my
+hold grew more precarious, and the earth and the pointed tree-tops
+dropped farther below. There was a good revolver in my pocket, to use
+in case of necessity; but had the great birds attacked me I should
+have fared badly, for at times I was obliged to grip hard with both
+hands, my face to the cliff, leaving the eagles free to strike from
+above and behind. I think now that had I shown fear in such a place,
+or shouted, or tried to fray them away, they would have swooped upon
+me, wing and claw, like furies. I could see it in their fierce eyes as
+I looked up. But the thought of the times when I had hunted him, and
+especially the thought of that time when I had reached out of the
+bushes and touched him, was upon Old Whitehead and made him fear. So I
+kept steadily on my way, apparently giving no thought to the eagles,
+though deep inside I was anxious enough, and reached the foot of the
+tree in which the nest was made.
+
+I stood there a long time, my arm clasping the twisted old boll,
+looking out over the forest spread wide below, partly to regain
+courage, partly to reassure the eagles, which were circling very near
+with a kind of intense wonder in their eyes, but chiefly to make up my
+mind what to do next. The tree was easy to climb, but the nest--a huge
+affair, which had been added to year after year--filled the whole
+tree-top, and I could gain no foothold, from which to look over and
+see the eaglets, without tearing the nest to pieces. I did not want to
+do that, and I doubted whether the mother-eagle would stand it. A
+dozen times she seemed on the point of dropping on my head to tear it
+with her talons; but always she veered off as I looked up quietly, and
+Old Whitehead, with the mark of my bullet strong upon him, swept
+between her and me and seemed to say, "Wait, wait. I don't understand;
+but he can kill us if he will--and the little ones are in his power."
+Now he was closer to me than ever, and the fear was vanishing. But so
+also was the fierceness.
+
+From the foot of the tree the crevice in which it grew led upwards to
+the right, then doubled back to the ledge above the nest, upon which
+Cheplahgan was standing when I discovered him. The lip of this crevice
+made a dizzy path that one might follow by moving crabwise, his face
+to the cliff, with only its roughnesses to cling to with his fingers.
+I tried it at last, crept up and out twenty feet, and back ten, and
+dropped with a great breath of relief to a broad ledge covered with
+bones and fish scales, the relics of many a savage feast. Below me,
+almost within reach, was the nest, with two dark, scraggly young birds
+resting on twigs and grass, with fish, flesh and fowl in a gory,
+skinny, scaly ring about them--the most savage-looking household into
+which I ever looked unbidden.
+
+But even as I looked and wondered, and tried to make out what other
+game had been furnished the young savages I had helped to feed, a
+strange thing happened, which touched me as few things ever have among
+the wild creatures. The eagles had followed me close along the last
+edge of rock, hoping no doubt in their wild hearts that I would slip,
+and end their troubles, and give my body as food to the young. Now, as
+I sat on the ledge, peering eagerly into the nest, the great
+mother-bird left me and hovered over her eaglets, as if to shield them
+with her wings from even the sight of my eyes. But Old Whitehead still
+circled over me. Lower he came, and lower, till with a supreme effort
+of daring he folded his wings and dropped to the ledge beside me,
+within ten feet, and turned and looked into my eyes. "See," he seemed
+to say, "we are within reach again. You touched me once; I don't know
+how or why. Here I am now, to touch or to kill, as you will; only
+spare the little ones."
+
+A moment later the mother-bird dropped to the edge of the nest. And
+there we sat, we three, with the wonder upon us all, the young eagles
+at our feet, the cliff above, and, three hundred feet below, the
+spruce tops of the wilderness reaching out and away to the mountains
+beyond the big lake. I sat perfectly still, which is the only way to
+reassure a wild creature; and soon I thought Cheplahgan had lost his
+fear in his anxiety for the little ones. But the moment I rose to go
+he was in the air again, circling restlessly above my head with his
+mate, the same wild fierceness in his eyes as he looked down. A
+half-hour later I had gained the top of the cliff and started eastward
+towards the lake, coming down by a much easier way than that by which
+I went up. Later I returned several times, and from a distance watched
+the eaglets being fed. But I never climbed to the nest again.
+
+One day, when I came to the little thicket on the cliff where I used
+to lie and watch the nest through my glass, I found that one eaglet
+was gone. The other stood on the edge of the nest, looking down
+fearfully into the abyss, whither, no doubt, his bolder nest mate had
+flown, and calling disconsolately from time to time. His whole
+attitude showed plainly that he was hungry and cross and lonesome.
+Presently the mother-eagle came swiftly up from the valley, and there
+was food in her talons. She came to the edge of the nest, hovered over
+it a moment, so as to give the hungry eaglet a sight and smell of
+food, then went slowly down to the valley, taking the food with her,
+telling the little one in her own way to come and he should have it.
+He called after her loudly from the edge of the nest, and spread his
+wings a dozen times to follow. But the plunge was too awful; his heart
+failed him; and he settled back in the nest, and pulled his head down
+into his shoulders, and shut his eyes, and tried to forget that he was
+hungry. The meaning of the little comedy was plain enough. She was
+trying to teach him to fly, telling him that his wings were grown and
+the time was come to use them; but he was afraid.
+
+In a little while she came back again, this time without food, and
+hovered over the nest, trying every way to induce the little one to
+leave it. She succeeded at last, when with a desperate effort he
+sprang upward and flapped to the ledge above, where I had sat and
+watched him with Old Whitehead. Then, after surveying the world
+gravely from his new place, he flapped back to the nest, and turned a
+deaf ear to all his mother's assurances that he could fly just as
+easily to the tree-tops below, if he only would.
+
+Suddenly, as if discouraged, she rose well above him. I held my
+breath, for I knew what was coming. The little fellow stood on the
+edge of the nest, looking down at the plunge which he dared not take.
+There was a sharp cry from behind, which made him alert, tense as a
+watch-spring. The next instant the mother-eagle had swooped, striking
+the nest at his feet, sending his support of twigs and himself with
+them out into the air together.
+
+He was afloat now, afloat on the blue air in spite of himself, and
+flapped lustily for life. Over him, under him, beside him hovered the
+mother on tireless wings, calling softly that she was there. But the
+awful fear of the depths and the lance tops of the spruces was upon
+the little one; his flapping grew more wild; he fell faster and
+faster. Suddenly--more in fright, it seemed to me, than because he had
+spent his strength--he lost his balance and tipped head downward in
+the air. It was all over now, it seemed; he folded his wings to be
+dashed in pieces among the trees. Then like a flash the old
+mother-eagle shot under him; his despairing feet touched her broad
+shoulders, between her wings. He righted himself, rested an instant,
+found his head; then she dropped like a shot from under him, leaving
+him to come down on his own wings. A handful of feathers, torn out by
+his claws, hovered slowly down after them.
+
+It was all the work of an instant before I lost them among the trees
+far below. And when I found them again with my glass, the eaglet was
+in the top of a great pine, and the mother was feeding him.
+
+And then, standing there alone in the great wilderness, it flashed
+upon me for the first time just what the wise old prophet meant;
+though he wrote long ago, in a distant land, and another than Cloud
+Wings had taught her little ones, all unconscious of the kindly eyes
+that watched out of a thicket: "As the eagle stirreth up her nest,
+fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them,
+beareth them on her wings,--so the Lord."
+
+
+
+
+VII. UPWEEKIS THE SHADOW.
+
+[Illustration: Upweekis]
+
+
+"Long 'go, O long time 'go," so says Simmo the Indian, Upweekis the
+lynx came to Clote Scarpe one day with a complaint. "See," he said,
+"you are good to everybody but me. Pekquam the fisher is cunning and
+patient; he can catch what he will. Lhoks the panther is strong and
+tireless; nothing can get away from him, not even the great moose. And
+Mooween the bear sleeps all winter, when game is scarce, and in summer
+eats everything,--roots and mice and berries and dead fish and meat
+and honey and red ants. So he is always full and happy. But my eyes
+are no good; they are bright, like Cheplahgan the eagle's, yet they
+cannot see anything unless it moves; for you have made every creature
+that hides just like the place he hides in. My nose is worse; it
+cannot smell Seksagadagee the grouse, though I walk over him asleep
+in the snow. And my feet make a noise in the leaves, so that Moktaques
+the rabbit hears me, and hides, and laughs behind me when I go to
+catch him. And I am always hungry. Make me now like the shadows that
+play, in order that nothing may notice me when I go hunting."
+
+So Clote Scarpe, the great chief who was kind to all animals, gave
+Upweekis a soft gray coat that is almost invisible in the woods,
+summer or winter, and made his feet large, and padded them with soft
+fur; so that indeed he is like the shadows that play, for you can
+neither see nor hear him. But Clote Scarpe remembered Moktaques the
+rabbit also, and gave him two coats, a brown one for summer and a
+white one for winter. Consequently he is harder than ever to see when
+he is quiet; and Upweekis must still depend upon his wits to catch
+him. As Upweekis has few wits to spare, Moktaques often sees him close
+at hand, and chuckles in his form under the brown ferns, or sits up
+straight under the snow-covered hemlock tips, and watches the big lynx
+at his hunting.
+
+Sometimes, on a winter night, when you camp in the wilderness, and the
+snow is sifting down into your fire, and the woods are all still, a
+fierce screech breaks suddenly out of the darkness just behind your
+wind-break of boughs. You jump to your feet and grab your rifle; but
+Simmo, who is down on his knees before the fire frying pork, only
+turns his head to listen a moment, and says: "Upweekis catch-um rabbit
+dat time." Then he gets closer to the fire, for the screech was not
+pleasant, and goes on with his cooking.
+
+You are more curious than he, or you want the big cat's skin to take
+home with you. You steal away towards the cry, past the little
+_commoosie_, or shelter, that you made hastily at sundown when the
+trail ended. There, with your back to the fire and the _commoosie_
+between, the light does not dazzle your eyes; you can trace the
+shadows creeping in and out stealthily among the underbrush. But if
+Upweekis is there--and he probably is--you do not see him. He is a
+shadow among the shadows. Only there is this difference: shadows move
+no bushes. As you watch, a fir-tip stirs; a bit of snow drops down.
+You gaze intently at the spot. Then out of the deep shadow two living
+coals are suddenly kindled. They grow larger and larger, glowing,
+flashing, burning holes into your eyes till you brush them swiftly
+with your hand. A shiver runs over you, for to look into the eyes of
+a lynx at night, when the light catches them, is a scary experience.
+Your rifle jumps to position; the glowing coals are quenched on the
+instant. Then, when your eyes have blinked the fascination out of
+them, the shadows go creeping in and out again, and Upweekis is lost
+amongst them.
+
+Sometimes, indeed, you see him again. Moktaques, the big white hare,
+who forgets a thing the moment it is past, sees you standing there and
+is full of curiosity. He forgets that he was being hunted a moment
+ago, and comes hopping along to see what you are. You back away toward
+the fire. He scampers off in a fright, but presently comes hopping
+after you. Watch the underbrush behind him sharply. In a moment it
+stirs stealthily, as if a shadow were moving it; and there is the
+lynx, stealing along in the snow with his eyes blazing. Again
+Moktaques feels that he is hunted, and does the only safe thing; he
+crouches low in the snow, where a fir-tip bends over him, and is still
+as the earth. His color hides him perfectly.
+
+Upweekis has lost the trail again; he wavers back and forth, like a
+shadow under a swinging lamp, turning his great head from side to
+side. He cannot see nor hear nor smell his game; but he saw a bit of
+snow fly a moment ago, and knows that it came from Moktaques' big
+pads. Don't stir now; be still as the great spruce in whose shadow
+you stand; and, once in a hunter's lifetime perhaps, you will see a
+curious tragedy.
+
+The lynx settles himself in the snow, with all four feet close
+together, ready for a spring. As you watch and wonder, a screech rings
+out through the woods, so sharp and fierce that no rabbit's nerves can
+stand it close at hand and be still. Moktaques jumps straight up in
+the air. The lynx sees it, whirls, hurls himself at the spot. Another
+screech, a different one, and then you know that it's all over.
+
+And that is why Upweekis' cry is so fierce and sudden on a winter
+night. Your fire attracts the rabbits. Upweekis knows this, or is
+perhaps attracted himself and comes also, and hides among the shadows.
+But he never catches anything unless he blunders onto it. That is why
+he wanders so much in winter and passes twenty rabbits before he
+catches one. So when he knows that Moktaques is near, watching the
+light, but remaining himself invisible, Upweekis crouches for a
+spring; then he screeches fearfully. Moktaques hears it and is
+startled, as anybody else would be, hearing such a cry near him. He
+jumps in a fright and pays the penalty.
+
+If the lynx is a big one, and very hungry, as he generally is in
+winter, you may get some unpleasant impressions of him in another way
+when you venture far from your fire. His eyes blaze out at you from
+the darkness, just two big glowing spots, which are all you see, and
+which disappear at your first motion. Then as you strain your eyes,
+and watch and listen, you feel the coals upon you again from another
+place; and there they are, under a bush on your left, creeping closer
+and blazing deep red. They disappear suddenly as the lynx turns his
+head, only to reappear and fascinate you from another point. So he
+plays with you as if you were a great mouse, creeping closer all the
+time, swishing his stub tail fiercely to lash himself up to the
+courage point of springing. But his movements are so still and shadowy
+that unless he follows you as you back away to the fire, and so comes
+within the circle of light, the chances are that you will never see
+him.
+
+Indeed the chances are always that way, day or night, unless you turn
+hunter and set a trap for him in the rabbit paths which he follows
+nightly, and hang a bait over it to make him look up and forget his
+steps. In summer he goes to the burned lands for the rabbits that
+swarm in the thickets, and to rear his young in seclusion. You find
+his tracks there all about, and the marks of his killing; but though
+you watch and prowl all day and come home in the twilight, you will
+learn little. He hears you and skulks away amid the lights and
+shadows of the hillside, and so hides himself--in plain sight,
+sometimes, like a young partridge--that he manages to keep a clean
+record in the notebook where you hoped to write down all about him.
+
+In winter you cross his tracks, great round tracks that wander
+everywhere through the big woods, and you think: Now I shall find him
+surely. But though you follow for miles and learn much about him,
+finding where he passed this rabbit close at hand, without suspecting
+it, and caught that one by accident, and missed the partridge that
+burst out of the snow under his very feet,--still Upweekis himself
+remains only a shadow of the woods. Once, after a glorious long tramp
+on his trail, I found the spot where he had been sleeping a moment
+before. But beside that experience I must put fifty other trails that
+I have followed, of which I never saw the end nor the beginning. And
+whenever I have found out anything about Upweekis it has generally
+come unexpectedly, as most good things do.
+
+Once the chance came as I was watching a muskrat at his supper. It was
+twilight in the woods. I had drifted in close to shore in my canoe to
+see what Musquash was doing on top of a rock. All muskrats have
+favorite eating places--a rock, a stranded log, a tree boll that leans
+out over the water, and always a pretty spot--whither they bring food
+from a distance, evidently for the purpose of eating it where they
+feel most at home. This one had gathered a half dozen big fresh-water
+clams onto his dining table, and sat down in the midst to enjoy the
+feast. He would take a clam in his fore paws, whack it a few times on
+the rock till the shell cracked, then open it with his teeth and
+devour the morsel inside. He ate leisurely, tasting each clam
+critically before swallowing, and sitting up often to wash his
+whiskers or to look out over the lake. A hermit thrush sang
+marvelously sweet above him; the twilight colors glowed deep and
+deeper in the water below, where his shadow was clearly eating clams
+also, in the midst of heaven's splendor.--Altogether a pretty scene,
+and a moment of peace that I still love to remember. I quite forgot
+that Musquash is a villain. But the tragedy was near, as it always is
+in the wilderness. Suddenly a movement caught my eye on the bank
+above. Something was waving nervously under the bushes. Before I could
+make out what it was, there was a fearful rush, a gleam of wild yellow
+eyes, a squeak from the muskrat. Then Upweekis, looking gaunt and dark
+and strange in his summer coat, was crouched on the rock with Musquash
+between his great paws, growling fiercely as he cracked the bones. He
+bit his game all over, to make sure that it was quite dead, then took
+it by the back of the neck, glided into the bushes with his stub tail
+twitching, and became a shadow again.
+
+Another time I was perched up in a lodged tree, some twenty feet from
+the ground, watching a big bait of fish which I had put in an open
+spot for anything that might choose to come and get it. I was hoping
+for a bear, and so climbed above the ground that he might not get my
+scent should he come from leeward. It was early autumn, and my
+intentions were wholly peaceable. I had no weapon of any kind.
+
+Late in the afternoon something took to chasing a red squirrel near
+me. I heard them scurrying through the trees, but could see nothing.
+The chase passed out of hearing, and I had almost forgotten it, for
+something was moving in the underbrush near my bait, when back it came
+with a rush. The squirrel, half dead with fright, leaped from a
+spruce-tip to the ground, jumped onto the tree in which I sat, and
+raced up the incline, almost to my feet, where he sprang to a branch
+and sat chattering hysterically between two fears. After him came a
+pine marten, following swiftly, catching the scent of his game, not
+from the bark or the ground, but apparently from the air. Scarcely had
+he jumped upon my tree when there was a screech and a rush in the
+underbrush just below him, and out of the bushes came a young lynx to
+join in the chase. He missed the marten on the ground, but sprang to
+my tree like a flash. I remember still that the only sound I was
+conscious of at the time was the ripping of his nails in the dead
+bark. He had been seeking my bait undoubtedly--for it was a good lynx
+country, and Upweekis loves fish like a cat--when the chase passed
+under his nose and he joined it on the instant.
+
+Halfway up the incline the marten smelled me, or was terrified by the
+noise behind him and leaped aside. A branch upon which I was leaning
+swayed or snapped, and the lucivee stopped as if struck, crouching
+lower and lower against the tree, his big yellow expressionless eyes
+glaring straight into mine. A moment only he stood the steady look;
+then his eyes wavered; he turned his head, leaped for the underbrush,
+and was gone.
+
+Another moment and Meeko the squirrel had forgotten his fright and
+peril and everything else save his curiosity to find out who I was and
+all about me. He had to pass quite close to me to get to another tree,
+but anything was better than going back where the marten might be
+waiting; so he was presently over my head, snickering and barking to
+make me move, and scolding me soundly for disturbing the peace of the
+woods. In summer Upweekis is a solitary creature, rearing his young
+away back on the wildest burned lands, where game is plenty and where
+it is almost impossible to find him except by accident. In winter also
+he roams alone for the most part; but occasionally, when rabbits are
+scarce, as they are periodically in the northern woods, he gathers in
+small bands for the purpose of pulling down big game that he would
+never attack singly. Generally Upweekis is skulking and cowardly with
+man; but when driven by hunger (as I found out once) or when hunting
+in bands, he is a savage beast and must be followed cautiously.
+
+I had heard much of the fierceness of these hunting bands from
+settlers and hunters; and once a friend of mine, an old backwoodsman,
+had a narrow escape from them. He had a dog, Grip, a big brindled cur,
+of whose prowess in killing "varmints" he was always bragging, calling
+him the best "lucififer" dog in all Canada. Lucififer, by the way, is
+a local name for the lynx on the upper St. John, where Grip and his
+master lived.
+
+One day in winter the master missed a young heifer and went on his
+trail, with Grip and his axe for companions. Presently he came to lynx
+tracks, then to signs of a struggle, then plump upon six or seven of
+the big cats snarling savagely over the body of the heifer. Grip, the
+lucififer dog, rushed in blindly, and in two minutes was torn to
+ribbons. Then the lynxes came creeping and snarling towards the man,
+who backed away, shouting and swinging his axe. He killed one by a
+lucky blow, as it sprang for his chest. The others drove him to his
+own door; but he would never have reached it, so he told me, but for a
+long strip of open land that he had cleared back into the woods. He
+would face and charge the beasts, which seemed more afraid of his
+voice than of the axe, then run desperately to keep them from circling
+and getting between him and safety. When he reached the open strip
+they followed a little way along the edges of the underbrush, but
+returned one at a time when they were sure he had no further mind to
+disturb their feast or their fighting.
+
+It is curious that when Upweekis and his hunting pack pull down game
+in this way the first thing they do is to fight over it. There may be
+meat enough and to spare, but under their fearful hunger is the old
+beastly instinct for each one to grab all for himself; so they fall
+promptly to teeth and claws before the game is dead. The fightings at
+such times are savage affairs, both to the eye and ear. One forgets
+that Upweekis is a shadow, and thinks that he must be a fiend.
+
+One day in winter, when after caribou, I came upon a very large lynx
+track, the largest I have ever seen. It was two days old; but it led
+in my direction, toward the caribou barrens, and I followed it to see
+what I should see.
+
+Presently it joined four other lynx trails, and a mile farther on all
+five trails went forward in great flying leaps, each lynx leaving a
+hole in the snow as big as a bucket at every jump. A hundred yards of
+this kind of traveling and the trails joined another trail,--that of a
+wounded caribou from the barrens. His tracks showed that he had been
+traveling with difficulty on three legs. Here was a place where he had
+stood to listen; and there was another place where even untrained eyes
+might see that he had plunged forward with a start of fear. It was a
+silent story, but full of eager interest in every detail.
+
+The lucivee tracks now showed different tactics. They crossed and
+crisscrossed the trail, appearing now in front, now behind, now on
+either side the wounded bull, evidently closing in upon him warily.
+Here and there was a depression in the snow where one had crouched,
+growling, as the game passed. Then the struggle began. First, there
+was a trampled place in the snow where the bull had taken a stand and
+the big cats went creeping about him, waiting for a chance to
+spring all together. He broke away from that, but the three-legged
+gallop speedily exhausted him. Only when he trots is a caribou
+tireless. The lynxes followed the deadly cat-play began again. First
+one, then another leaped, only to be shaken off; then two, then all
+five were upon the poor brute, which still struggled forward. The
+record was written red all over the snow.
+
+[Illustration: The lynxes and caribou]
+
+As I followed it cautiously, a snarl sounded just ahead. I kicked off
+my snowshoes and circled noiselessly to the left, so as to look out
+over a little opening. There lay the stripped carcass of the caribou
+with two lynxes still upon it, growling fearfully at each other as
+they pulled at the bones. Another lynx crouched in the snow, under a
+bush, watching the scene. Two others circled about each other
+snarling, looking for an opening, but too well fed to care for a fight
+just then. Two or three foxes, a pine marten, and a fisher moved
+ceaselessly in and out, sniffing hungrily, and waiting for a chance to
+seize every scrap of bone or skin that was left unguarded for an
+instant. Above them a dozen moose birds kept the same watch
+vigilantly. As I stole nearer, hoping to get behind an old log where I
+could lie and watch the spectacle, some creature scurried out of the
+underbrush at one side. I was watching the movement, when a loud
+_kee-yaaah!_ startled me; I whirled towards the opening. From behind
+the old log a fierce round head with tasseled ears rose up, and the
+big lynx, whose trail I had first followed, sprang into sight snarling
+and spitting viciously.
+
+The feast stopped at the first alarm. The marten disappeared
+instantly. The foxes and the fisher and one lynx slunk away. Another,
+which I had not seen, stalked up to the carcass and put his fore paws
+upon it, and turned his savage head in my direction. Evidently other
+lynxes had come in to the kill beside the five I had followed. Then
+all the big cats crouched in the snow and stared at me steadily out of
+their wild yellow eyes.
+
+It was only for a moment. The big lynx on my side of the log was in a
+fighting temper; he snarled continuously. Another sprang over the log
+and crouched beside him, facing me. Then began a curious scene, of
+which I could not wait to see the end. The two lynxes hitched nearer
+and nearer to where I stood motionless, watching. They would creep
+forward a step or two, then crouch in the snow, like a cat warming her
+feet, and stare at me unblinkingly for a few moments. Then another
+hitch or two, which brought them nearer, and another stare. I could
+not look at one steadily, to make him waver; for the moment my eyes
+were upon him the others hitched closer; and already two more lynxes
+were coming over the log. I had to draw the curtain hastily with a
+bullet between the yellow eyes of the biggest lynx, and a second
+straight into the chest of his fellow-starer, just as he wriggled down
+into the snow for a spring. The others had leaped away snarling as the
+first heavy report rolled through the woods.
+
+Another time, in the same region, a solitary lynx made me
+uncomfortable for half an afternoon. It was Sunday, and I had gone for
+a snowshoe tramp, leaving my rifle behind me. On the way back to camp
+I stopped for a caribou head and skin, which I had _cached_ on the
+edge of a barren the morning before. The weather had changed; a bitter
+cold wind blew after me as I turned toward camp. I carried the head
+with its branching antlers on my shoulder; the skin hung down, to keep
+my back warm, its edges trailing in the snow.
+
+Gradually I became convinced that something was following me; but I
+turned several times without seeing anything. "It is only a fisher," I
+thought, and kept on steadily, instead of going back to examine my
+trail; for I was hoping for a glimpse of the cunning creature whose
+trail you find so often running side by side with your own, and who
+follows you if you have any trace of game about you, hour after hour
+through the wilderness, without ever showing himself in the light.
+Then I whirled suddenly, obeying an impulse; and there was Upweekis, a
+big, savage-looking fellow, just gliding up on my trail in plain
+sight, following the broad snowshoe track and the scent of the fresh
+caribou skin without difficulty, poor trailer though he be.
+
+He stopped and sat down on his feet, as a lucivee generally does when
+you surprise him, and stared at me steadily. When I went on again I
+knew that he was after me, though he had disappeared from the trail.
+
+Then began a double-quick of four miles, the object being to reach
+camp before night should fall and give the lucivee the advantage. It
+was already late enough to make one a bit uneasy. He knew that I was
+hurrying he grew bolder, showing himself openly on the trail behind
+me. I turned into an old swamping road, which gave me a bit of open
+before and behind. Then I saw him occasionally on either side, or
+crouching half hid until I passed. Clearly he was waiting for night;
+but to this day I am not sure whether it was the man or the caribou
+skin upon which he had set his heart. The scent of flesh and blood was
+in his nose, and he was too hungry to control himself much longer.
+
+I cut a good club with my big jack-knife, and, watching my chance,
+threw off the caribou head and jumped for him as he crouched in the
+snow. He leaped aside untouched, but crouched again instantly, showing
+all his teeth, snarling horribly. Three times I swung at him warily.
+Each time he jumped aside and watched for his opening; but I kept the
+club in play before his eyes, and it was not yet dark enough. Then I
+yelled in his face, to teach him fear, and went on again.
+
+Near camp I shouted for Simmo to bring my rifle; but he was slow in
+understanding, and his answering shout alarmed the savage creature
+near me. His movements became instantly more wary, more hidden. He
+left the open trail; and once, when I saw him well behind me, his head
+was raised high, listening. I threw down the caribou head to keep him
+busy, and ran for camp. In a few minutes I was stealing back again
+with my rifle; but Upweekis had felt the change in the situation and
+was again among the shadows, where he belongs. I lost his trail in the
+darkening woods.
+
+There was another lynx which showed me, one day, a different side to
+Upweekis' nature. It was in summer, when every creature in the
+wilderness seems an altogether different creature from the one you
+knew last winter, with new habits, new duties, new pleasures, and even
+a new coat to hide him better from his enemies. Opposite my island
+camp, where I halted a little while, in a summer's roving, was a
+burned ridge; that is, it had been burned over years before; now it
+was a perfect tangle, with many an open sunny spot, however, where
+berries grew by handfuls. Rabbits swarmed there, and grouse were
+plenty. As it was forty miles back from the settlements, it seemed a
+perfect place for Upweekis to make a den in. And so it was. I have no
+doubt there were a dozen litters of kittens on that two miles of
+ridge; but the cover was so dense that nothing smaller than a deer
+could be seen moving.
+
+For two weeks I hunted the ridge whenever I was not fishing, stealing
+in and out among the thickets, depending more upon ears than eyes, but
+seeing nothing of Upweekis, save here and there a trampled fern, or a
+blood-splashed leaf, with a bit of rabbit fur, or a great round cat
+track, to tell the story. Once I came upon a bear and two cubs among
+the berries; and once, when the wind was blowing down the hill, I
+walked almost up to a bull caribou without seeing him. He was watching
+my approach curiously, only his eyes, ears, and horns showing above
+the tangle where he stood. Down in the coverts it was always intensely
+still, with a stillness that I took good care not to break. So when
+the great brute whirled with a snort and a tremendous crash of
+bushes, almost under my nose, it raised my hair for a moment, not
+knowing what the creature was, nor which way he was heading. But
+though every day brought its experience, and its knowledge, and its
+new wonder at the ways of wild things, I found no trace of the den,
+nor of the kittens I had hoped to watch. All animals are silent near
+their little ones, so there was never a cry by night or day to guide
+me.
+
+Late one afternoon, when I had climbed to the top of the ridge and was
+on my way back to camp, I ran into an odor, the strong, disagreeable
+odor that always hovers about the den of a carnivorous animal. I
+followed it through a thicket, and came to an open stony place, with a
+sharp drop of five or six feet to dense cover below. The odor came
+from this cover, so I jumped down; when--_yeow, karrrr, pft-pft!_
+Almost under my feet a gray thing leaped away snarling, followed by
+another. I had the merest glimpse of them; but from the way they
+bristled and spit and arched their backs, I knew that I had stumbled
+upon a pair of the lynx kittens, for which I had searched so long in
+vain.
+
+They had, probably, been lying out on the warm stones, until, hearing
+strange footsteps, they had glided away to cover. When I crashed down
+near them they had been scared into showing their temper; else I had
+never seen them in the underbrush. Fortunately for me, the fierce old
+mother was away. Had she been there, I should undoubtedly have had
+more serious business on hand than watching her kittens.
+
+They had not seen more of me than my shoes and stockings; so when I
+stole after them, to see what they were like, they were waiting under
+a bush to see what I was like. They jumped away again, spitting,
+without seeing me, alarmed by the rustle which I could not avoid
+making in the cover. So I followed them, just a quiver of leaves here,
+a snarl there, and then a rush away, until they doubled back towards
+the rocky place, where, parting the underbrush cautiously, I saw a
+dark hole among the rocks of a little opening. The roots of an
+upturned tree arched over the hole, making a broad doorway. In this
+doorway stood two half-grown lucivees, fuzzy and gray and
+savage-looking, their backs still up, their wild eyes turned in my
+direction apprehensively. Seeing me they drew farther back into the
+den, and I saw nothing more of them save now and then their round
+heads, or the fire in their yellow eyes.
+
+It was too late for further observation that day. The fierce old
+mother lynx would presently be back; they would let her know of the
+intruder in some way; and they would all keep close in the den. I
+found a place, some dozen yards above, where it would be possible to
+watch them, marked the spot by a blasted stub, to which I made a
+compass of broken twigs; and then went back to camp.
+
+Next morning I omitted the early fishing, and was back at the place
+before the sun looked over the ridge. Their den was all quiet, in deep
+shadow. Mother Lynx was still away on the early hunting. I intended to
+kill her when she came back. My rifle lay ready across my knees. Then
+I would watch the kittens a little while, and kill them also. I wanted
+their skins, all soft and fine with their first fur. And they were too
+big and fierce to think of taking them alive. My vacation was over.
+Simmo was already packing up, to break camp that morning. So there
+would be no time to carry out my long-cherished plan of watching young
+lynxes at play, as I had before watched young foxes and bears and owls
+and fish-hawks, and indeed almost everything, except Upweekis, in the
+wilderness.
+
+Presently one of the lucivees came out, yawned, stretched, raised
+himself against a root. In the morning stillness I could hear the cut
+and rip of his claws on the wood. We call the action sharpening the
+claws; but it is only the occasional exercise of the fine flexor
+muscles that a cat uses so seldom, yet must use powerfully when the
+time comes. The second lucivee came out of the shadow a moment later
+and leaped upon the fallen tree where he could better watch the
+hillside below. For half an hour or more, while I waited expectantly,
+both animals moved restlessly about the den, or climbed over the roots
+and trunk of the fallen tree. They were plainly cross; they made no
+attempt at play, but kept well away from each other with a wholesome
+respect for teeth and claws and temper. Breakfast hour was long past,
+evidently, and they were hungry.
+
+Suddenly one, who was at that moment watching from the tree trunk,
+leaped down; the second joined him, and both paced back and forth
+excitedly. They had heard the sounds of a coming that were too fine
+for my ears. A stir in the underbrush, and Mother Lynx, a great savage
+creature, stalked out proudly. She carried a dead hare gripped across
+the middle of the back. The long ears on one side, the long legs on
+the other, hung limply, showing a fresh kill. She walked to the
+doorway of her den, crossed it back and forth two or three times,
+still carrying the hare as if the lust of blood were raging within her
+and she could not drop her prey even to her own little ones, which
+followed her hungrily, one on either side. Once, as she turned toward
+me, one of the kittens seized a leg of the hare and jerked it
+savagely. The mother whirled on him, growling deep down in her throat;
+the youngster backed away, scared but snarling. At last she flung the
+game down. The kittens fell upon it like furies, growling at each
+other, as I had seen the stranger lynxes growling once before over the
+caribou. In a moment they had torn the carcass apart and were
+crouched, each one over his piece, gnarling like a cat over a rat, and
+stuffing themselves greedily in utter forgetfulness of the mother
+lynx, which lay under a bush some distance away and watched them.
+
+In a half hour the savage meal was over. The little ones sat up,
+licked their chops, and began to tongue their broad paws. The mother
+had been blinking sleepily; now she rose and came to her young. A
+change had come over the family. The kittens ran to meet the dam as if
+they had not seen her before, rubbing softly against her legs, or
+sitting up to rub their whiskers against hers--a tardy thanks for the
+breakfast she had provided. The fierce old mother too seemed
+altogether different. She arched her back against the roots, purring
+loudly, while the little ones arched and purred against her sides.
+Then she bent her savage head and licked them fondly with her tongue,
+while they rubbed as close to her as they could get, passing between
+her legs as under a bridge, and trying to lick her face in return;
+till all their tongues were going at once and the family lay down
+together.
+
+It was time to kill them now. The rifle lay ready. But a change had
+come over the watcher too. Hitherto he had seen Upweekis as a
+ferocious brute, whom it was good to kill. This was altogether
+different. Upweekis could be gentle also, it seemed, and give herself
+for her little ones. And a bit of tenderness, like that which lay so
+unconscious under my eyes, gets hold of a man, and spikes his guns
+better than moralizing. So the watcher stole away, making as little
+noise as he could, following his compass of twigs to where the canoes
+lay ready and Simmo was waiting.
+
+Sometime, I hope, Simmo and I will camp there again, in winter. And
+then I shall listen with a new interest for a cry in the night which
+tells me that Moktaques the rabbit is hiding close at hand in the
+snow, where a young lynx of my acquaintance cannot find him.
+
+
+
+
+VIII. HUKWEEM THE NIGHT VOICE.
+
+[Illustration: Hukweem]
+
+
+Hukweem the loon must go through the world crying for what he never
+gets, and searching for one whom he never finds; for he is the
+hunting-dog of Clote Scarpe. So said Simmo to me one night in
+explaining why the loon's cry is so wild and sad.
+
+Clote Scarpe, by the way, is the legendary hero, the Hiawatha of the
+northern Indians. Long ago he lived on the Wollastook, and ruled the
+animals, which all lived peaceably together, understanding each
+other's language, and "nobody ever ate anybody," as Simmo says. But
+when Clote Scarpe went away they quarreled, and Lhoks the panther and
+Nemox the fisher took to killing the other animals. Malsun the wolf
+soon followed, and ate all he killed; and Meeko the squirrel, who
+always makes all the mischief he can, set even the peaceable animals
+by the ears, so that they feared and distrusted each other. Then they
+scattered through the big woods, living each one for himself; and now
+the strong ones kill the weak, and nobody understands anybody any
+more.
+
+There were no dogs in those days. Hukweem was Clote Scarpe's hunting
+companion when he hunted the great evil beasts that disturbed the
+wilderness; and Hukweem alone, of all the birds and animals, remained
+true to his master. For hunting makes strong friendship, says Simmo;
+and that is true. Therefore does Hukweem go through the world, looking
+for his master and calling him to come back. Over the tree-tops, when
+he flies low looking for new waters; high in air, out of sight, on his
+southern migrations; and on every lake where he is only a voice, the
+sad night voice of the vast solitary unknown wilderness--everywhere
+you hear him seeking. Even on the seacoast in winter, where he knows
+Clote Scarpe cannot be--for Clote Scarpe hates the sea--Hukweem
+forgets himself, and cries occasionally out of pure loneliness.
+
+When I asked what Hukweem says when he cries--for all cries of the
+wilderness have their interpretation--Simmo answered: "Wy, he say two
+ting. First he say, _Where are you? O where are you_? Dass what you
+call-um his laugh, like he crazy. Denn, wen nobody answer, he say, _O
+I so sorry, so sorry_! _Ooooo-eee_! like woman lost in woods. An'
+dass his tother cry."
+
+[Illustration: Hukweem]
+
+This comes nearer to explaining the wild unearthliness of Hukweem's
+call than anything else I know. It makes things much simpler to
+understand, when you are camped deep in the wilderness, and the night
+falls, and out of the misty darkness under the farther shore comes a
+wild shivering call that makes one's nerves tingle till he finds out
+about it--_Where are you? O where are you?_ That is just like Hukweem.
+
+Sometimes, however, he varies the cry, and asks very plainly: "Who are
+you? O who are you?" There was a loon on the Big Squattuk lake, where
+I camped one summer, which was full of inquisitiveness as a blue jay.
+He lived alone at one end of the lake, while his mate, with her brood
+of two, lived at the other end, nine miles away. Every morning and
+evening he came close to my camp--very much nearer than is usual, for
+loons are wild and shy in the wilderness--to cry out his challenge.
+Once, late at night, I flashed a lantern at the end of the old log
+that served as a landing for the canoes, where I had heard strange
+ripples; and there was Hukweem, examining everything with the greatest
+curiosity.
+
+Every unusual thing in our doings made him inquisitive to know all
+about it. Once, when I started down the lake with a fair wind, and a
+small spruce set up in the bow of my canoe for a sail, he followed me
+four or five miles, calling all the way. And when I came back to camp
+at twilight with a big bear in the canoe, his shaggy head showing over
+the bow, and his legs up over the middle thwart, like a little old
+black man with his wrinkled feet on the table, Hukweem's curiosity
+could stand it no longer. He swam up within twenty yards, and circled
+the canoe half a dozen times, sitting up straight on his tail by a
+vigorous use of his wings, stretching his neck like an inquisitive
+duck, so as to look into the canoe and see what queer thing I had
+brought with me.
+
+He had another curious habit which afforded him unending amusement.
+There was a deep bay on the west shore of the lake, with hills rising
+abruptly on three sides. The echo here was remarkable; a single shout
+brought a dozen distinct answers, and then a confusion of tongues as
+the echoes and re-echoes from many hills met and mingled. I discovered
+the place in an interesting way.
+
+One evening at twilight, as I was returning to camp from exploring the
+upper lake, I heard a wild crying of loons on the west side. There
+seemed to be five or six of the great divers, all laughing and
+shrieking like so many lunatics. Pushing over to investigate, I
+noticed for the first time the entrance to a great bay, and paddled up
+cautiously behind a point, so as to surprise the loons at their game.
+For they play games, just as crows do. But when I looked in, there was
+only one bird, Hukweem the Inquisitive. I knew him instantly by his
+great size and beautiful markings. He would give a single sharp call,
+and listen intently, with head up, swinging from side to side as the
+separate echoes came ringing back from the hills. Then he would try
+his cackling laugh, _Ooo-ah-ha-ha-ha-hoo, ooo-ah-ha-ha-ha-hoo_, and as
+the echoes began to ring about his head he would get excited, sitting
+up on his tail, flapping his wings, cackling and shrieking with glee
+at his own performance. Every wild syllable was flung back like a shot
+from the surrounding hills, till the air seemed full of loons, all
+mingling their crazy cachinnations with the din of the chief
+performer. The uproar made one shiver. Then Hukweem would cease
+suddenly, listening intently to the warring echoes. Before the
+confusion was half ended he would get excited again, and swim about in
+small circles, spreading wings and tail, showing his fine feathers as
+if every echo were an admiring loon, pleased as a peacock with himself
+at having made such a noise in a quiet world.
+
+There was another loon, a mother bird, on a different lake, whose two
+eggs had been carried off by a thieving muskrat; but she did not know
+who did it, for Musquash knows how to roll the eggs into water and
+carry them off, before eating, where the mother bird will not find the
+shells. She came swimming down to meet us the moment our canoe entered
+the lake; and what she seemed to cry was, "Where are they? O where are
+they?" She followed us across the lake, accusing us of robbery, and
+asking the same question over and over.
+
+But whatever the meaning of Hukweem's crying, it seems to constitute a
+large part of his existence. Indeed, it is as a cry that he is chiefly
+known--the wild, unearthly cry of the wilderness night. His education
+for this begins very early. Once I was exploring the grassy shores of
+a wild lake when a mother loon appeared suddenly, out in the middle,
+with a great splashing and crying. I paddled out to see what was the
+matter. She withdrew with a great effort, apparently, as I approached,
+still crying loudly and beating the water with her wings. "Oho," I
+said, "you have a nest in there somewhere, and now you are trying to
+get me away from it." This was the only time I have ever known a loon
+to try that old mother bird's trick. Generally they slip off the nest
+while the canoe is yet half a mile away, and swim under water a long
+distance, and watch you silently from the other side of the lake.
+
+I went back and hunted awhile for the nest among the bogs of a little
+bay; then left the search to investigate a strange call that sounded
+continuously farther up the shore. It came from some hidden spot in
+the tall grass, an eager little whistling cry, reminding me somehow of
+a nest of young fish-hawks.
+
+As I waded cautiously among the bogs, trying to locate the sound, I
+came suddenly upon the loon's nest--just the bare top of a bog, where
+the mother bird had pulled up the grass and hollowed the earth enough
+to keep the eggs from rolling out. They were there on the bare ground,
+two very large olive eggs with dark blotches. I left them undisturbed
+and went on to investigate the crying, which had stopped a moment as I
+approached the nest.
+
+Presently it began again behind me, faint at first, then louder and
+more eager, till I traced it back to Hukweem's household. But there
+was nothing here to account for it, only two innocent-looking eggs on
+top of a bog. I bent over to examine them more closely. There, on the
+sides, were two holes, and out of the holes projected the points of
+two tiny bills. Inside were two little loons, crying at the top of
+their lungs, "Let me out! O let me out! It's hot in here. Let me
+out--_Oooo-eee! pip-pip-pip_!"
+
+But I left the work of release to the mother bird, thinking she knew
+more about it. Next day I went back to the place, and, after much
+watching, saw two little loons stealing in and out among the bogs,
+exulting in their freedom, but silent as two shadows. The mother bird
+was off on the lake, fishing for their dinner.
+
+Hukweem's fishing is always an interesting thing to watch.
+Unfortunately he is so shy that one seldom gets a good opportunity.
+Once I found his favorite fishing ground, and came every day to watch
+him from a thicket on the shore. It was of little use to go in a
+canoe. At my approach he would sink deeper and deeper in the water, as
+if taking in ballast. How he does this is a mystery; for his body is
+much lighter than its bulk of water. Dead or alive, it floats like a
+cork; yet without any perceptible motion, by an effort of will
+apparently, he sinks it out of sight. You are approaching in your
+canoe, and he moves off slowly, swinging his head from side to side so
+as to look at you first with one eye, then with the other. Your canoe
+is swift; he sees that you are gaining, that you are already too near.
+He swings on the water, and sits watching you steadily. Suddenly he
+begins to sink, deeper and deeper, till his back is just awash. Go a
+little nearer, and now his body disappears; only his neck and head
+remain above water. Raise your hand, or make any quick motion, and he
+is gone altogether. He dives like a flash, swims deep and far, and
+when he comes to the surface will be well out of danger.
+
+If you notice the direction of his bill as it enters the water, you
+can tell fairly well about where he will come up again. It was
+confusing at first, in chasing him, to find that he rarely came up
+where he was expected. I would paddle hard in the direction he was
+going, only to find him far to the right or left, or behind me, when
+at last he showed himself. That was because I followed his body, not
+his bill. Moving in one direction, he will turn his head and dive.
+That is to mislead you, if you are following him. Follow his bill, as
+he does himself, and you will be near him when he rises; for he rarely
+turns under water.
+
+With two good men to paddle, it is not difficult to tire him out.
+Though he swims with extraordinary rapidity under water--fast enough
+to follow and catch a trout--a long deep dive tires him, and he must
+rest before another. If you are chasing him, shout and wave your hat
+the moment he appears, and paddle hard the way his bill points as he
+dives again. The next time he comes up you are nearer to him. Send him
+down again quick, and after him. The next time he is frightened to see
+the canoe so close, and dives deep, which tires him the more. So his
+disappearances become shorter and more confused; you follow him more
+surely because you can see him plainly now as he goes down. Suddenly
+he bursts out of water beside you, scattering the spray into your
+canoe. Once he came up under my paddle, and I plucked a feather from
+his back before he got away.
+
+This last appearance always scares him out of his wits, and you get
+what you have been working hard for--a sight of Hukweem getting under
+way. Away he goes in a smother of spray, beating the water with his
+wings, kicking hard to lift himself up; and so for a hundred yards,
+leaving a wake like a stern-wheel steamer, till he gathers headway
+enough to rise from the water.
+
+After that first start there is no sign of awkwardness. His short
+wings rise and fall with a rapidity that tries the eye to follow, like
+the rush of a coot down wind to decoys. You can hear the swift, strong
+beat of them, far over your head, when he is not calling. His flight
+is very rapid, very even, and often at enormous altitudes. But when he
+wants to come down he always gets frightened, thinking of his short
+wings, and how high he is, and how fast he is going. On the ocean, in
+winter, where he has all the room he wants, he sometimes comes down in
+a great incline, miles long, and plunges through and over a dozen
+waves, like a dolphin, before he can stop. But where the lake is
+small, and he cannot come down that way, he has a dizzy time of it.
+
+Once, on a little lake in September, I used to watch for hours to get
+a sight of the process. Twelve or fifteen loons were gathered there,
+holding high carnival. They called down every migrating loon that
+passed that way; their numbers increased daily. Twilight was the
+favorite time for arriving. In the stillness I would hear Hukweem far
+away, so high that he was only a voice. Presently I would see him
+whirling over the lake in a great circle.--"Come down, O come down,"
+cry all the loons. "I'm afraid, _ooo-ho-ho-ho-ho-hoooo-eee_, I'm
+afraid," says Hukweem, who is perhaps a little loon, all the way from
+Labrador on his first migration, and has never come down from a height
+before. "Come on, O come _oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-hon_. It won't hurt you; we
+did it; come on," cry all the loons.
+
+Then Hukweem would slide lower with each circle, whirling round and
+round the lake in a great spiral, yelling all the time, and all the
+loons answering. When low enough, he would set his wings and plunge
+like a catapult at the very midst of the assembly, which scattered
+wildly, yelling like schoolboys--"Look out! he'll break his neck;
+he'll hit you; he'll break your back if he hits you."--So they
+splashed away in a desperate fright, each one looking back over his
+shoulder to see Hukweem come down, which he would do at a terrific
+pace, striking the water with a mighty splash, and shooting half
+across the lake in a smother of white, before he could get his legs
+under him and turn around. Then all the loons would gather round him,
+cackling, shrieking, laughing, with such a din as the little loon
+never heard in his life before; and he would go off in the midst of
+them, telling them, no doubt, what a mighty thing it was to come down
+from so high and not break his neck.
+
+A little later in the fall I saw those same loons do an astonishing
+thing. For several evenings they had been keeping up an unusual racket
+in a quiet bay, out of sight of my camp. I asked Simmo what he thought
+they were doing.--"O, I don' know, playin' game, I guess, jus' like
+one boy. Hukweem do dat sometime, wen he not hungry," said Simmo,
+going on with his bean-cooking. That excited my curiosity; but when I
+reached the bay it was too dark to see what they were playing.
+
+One evening, when I was fishing at the inlet, the racket was different
+from any I had heard before. There would be an interval of perfect
+silence, broken suddenly by wild yelling; then the ordinary loon talk
+for a few minutes, and another silence, broken by a shriller outcry.
+That meant that something unusual was going on, so I left the trout,
+to find out about it.
+
+When I pushed my canoe through the fringe of water-grass on the point
+nearest the loons, they were scattered in a long line, twelve or
+fifteen of them, extending from the head of the bay to a point nearly
+opposite me. At the other end of the line two loons were swimming
+about, doing something which I could not make out. Suddenly the loon
+talk ceased. There may have been a signal given, which I did not hear.
+Anyway, the two loons faced about at the same moment and came tearing
+down the line, using wings and feet to help in the race. The upper
+loons swung in behind them as they passed, so as to watch the finish
+better; but not a sound was heard till they passed my end of the line
+in a close, hard race, one scarcely a yard ahead of the other, when
+such a yelling began as I never heard before. All the loons gathered
+about the two swimmers; there was much cackling and crying, which grew
+gradually quieter; then they began to string out in another long line,
+and two more racers took their places at one end of it. By that time
+it was almost dark, and I broke up the race trying to get nearer in my
+canoe so as to watch things better. Twice since then I have heard
+from summer campers of their having seen loons racing across a lake. I
+have no doubt it is a frequent pastime with the birds when the summer
+cares for the young are ended, and autumn days are mellow, and fish
+are plenty, and there are long hours just for fun together, before
+Hukweem moves southward for the hard solitary winter life on the
+seacoast.
+
+Of all the loons that cried out to me in the night, or shared the
+summer lakes with me, only one ever gave me the opportunity of
+watching at close quarters. It was on a very wild lake, so wild that
+no one had ever visited it before in summer, and a mother loon felt
+safe in leaving the open shore, where she generally nests, and placing
+her eggs on a bog at the head of a narrow bay. I found them there a
+day or two after my arrival.
+
+I used to go at all hours of the day, hoping the mother would get used
+to me and my canoe, so that I could watch her later, teaching her
+little ones; but her wildness was unconquerable. Whenever I came in
+sight of the nest-bog, with only the loon's neck and head visible,
+standing up very straight and still in the grass, I would see her slip
+from the nest, steal away through the green cover to a deep place, and
+glide under water without leaving a ripple. Then, looking sharp over
+the side into the clear water, I would get a glimpse of her, just a
+gray streak with a string of silver bubbles, passing deep and swift
+under my canoe. So she went through the opening, and appeared far out
+in the lake, where she would swim back and forth, as if fishing, until
+I went away. As I never disturbed her nest, and always paddled away
+soon, she thought undoubtedly that she had fooled me, and that I knew
+nothing about her or her nest.
+
+Then I tried another plan. I lay down in my canoe, and had Simmo
+paddle me up to the nest. While the loon was out on the lake, hidden
+by the grassy shore, I went and sat on a bog, with a friendly alder
+bending over me, within twenty feet of the nest, which was in plain
+sight. Then Simmo paddled away, and Hukweem came back without the
+slightest suspicion. As I had supposed, from the shape of the nest,
+she did not sit on her two eggs; she sat on the bog instead, and
+gathered them close to her side with her wing. That was all the
+brooding they had, or needed; for within a week there were two bright
+little loons to watch instead of the eggs.
+
+After the first success I used to go alone and, while the mother bird
+was out on the lake, would pull my canoe up in the grass, a hundred
+yards or so below the nest. From here I entered the alders and made
+my way to the bog, where I could watch Hukweem at my leisure. After a
+long wait she would steal into the bay very shyly, and after much fear
+and circumspection glide up to the canoe. It took a great deal of
+looking and listening to convince her that it was harmless, and that I
+was not hiding near in the grass. Once convinced, however, she would
+come direct to the nest; and I had the satisfaction at last of
+watching a loon at close quarters.
+
+She would sit there for hours--never sleeping apparently, for her eye
+was always bright--preening herself, turning her head slowly, so as to
+watch on all sides, snapping now and then at an obtrusive fly, all in
+utter unconsciousness that I was just behind her, watching every
+movement. Then, when I had enough, I would steal away along a caribou
+path, and push off quietly in my canoe without looking back. She saw
+me, of course, when I entered the canoe, but not once did she leave
+the nest. When I reached the open lake, a little searching with my
+glass always showed me her head there in the grass, still turned in my
+direction apprehensively.
+
+I had hoped to see her let the little ones out of their hard shell,
+and see them first take the water; but that was too much to expect.
+One day I heard them whistling in the eggs; the next day, when I
+came, there was nothing to be seen on the nest-bog. I feared that
+something had heard their whistling and put an untimely end to the
+young Hukweems while mother bird was away. But when she came back,
+after a more fearful survey than usual of the old bark canoe, two
+downy little fellows came bobbing to meet her out of the grass, where
+she had hidden them and told them to stay till she came back.
+
+It was a rare treat to watch them at their first feeding, the little
+ones all eagerness, bobbing about in the delight of eating and the
+wonder of the new great world, the mother all tenderness and
+watchfulness. Hukweem had never looked to me so noble before. This
+great wild mother bird, moving ceaselessly with marvelous grace about
+her little ones, watching their play with exquisite fondness, and
+watching the great dangerous world for their sakes, now chiding them
+gently, now drawing near to touch them with her strong bill, or to rub
+their little cheeks with hers, or just to croon over them in an
+ecstasy of that wonderful mother love which makes the summer
+wilderness beautiful,--in ten minutes she upset all my theories, and
+won me altogether, spite of what I had heard and seen of her
+destructiveness on the fishing grounds. After all, why should she not
+fish as well as I? And then began the first lessons in swimming and
+hiding and diving, which I had waited so long to see.
+
+Later I saw her bring little fish, which she had slightly wounded,
+turn them loose in shallow water, and with a sharp cluck bring the
+young loons out of their hiding, to set them chasing and diving wildly
+for their own dinners. But before that happened there was almost a
+tragedy.
+
+One day, while the mother was gone fishing, the little ones came out
+of their hiding among the grasses, and ventured out some distance into
+the bay. It was their first journey alone into the world; they were
+full of the wonder and importance of it. Suddenly, as I watched, they
+began to dart about wildly, moving with astonishing rapidity for such
+little fellows, and whistling loudly. From the bank above, a swift
+ripple had cut out into the water between them and the only bit of bog
+with which they were familiar. Just behind the ripple were the sharp
+nose and the beady eyes of Musquash, who is always in some mischief of
+this kind. In one of his prowlings he had discovered the little brood;
+now he was manoeuvering craftily to keep the frightened youngsters
+moving till they should be tired out, while he himself crept carefully
+between them and the shore.
+
+Musquash knows well that when a young loon, or a shelldrake, or a
+black duck, is caught in the open like that, he always tries to get
+back where his mother hid him when she went away. That is what the
+poor little fellows were trying to do now, only to be driven back and
+kept moving wildly by the muskrat, who lifted himself now and then
+from the water, and wiggled his ugly jaws in anticipation of the
+feast. He had missed the eggs in his search; but young loon would be
+better, and more of it.--"There you are!" he snapped viciously,
+lunging at the nearest loon, which flashed under water and barely
+escaped.
+
+I had started up to interfere, for I had grown fond of the little wild
+things whose growth I had watched from the beginning, when a great
+splashing began on my left, and I saw the old mother bird coming like
+a fury. She was half swimming, half flying, tearing over the water at
+a great pace, a foamy white wake behind her.--"Now, you little
+villain, take your medicine. It's coming; it's coming," I cried
+excitedly, and dodged back to watch. But Musquash, intent on his evil
+doing (he has no need whatever to turn flesh-eater), kept on viciously
+after the exhausted little ones, paying no heed to his rear.
+
+Twenty yards away the mother bird, to my great astonishment, flashed
+out of sight under water. What could it mean! But there was little
+time to wonder. Suddenly a catapult seemed to strike the muskrat from
+beneath and lift him clear from the water. With a tremendous rush and
+sputter Hukweem came out beneath him, her great pointed bill driven
+through to his spine. Little need of my help now. With another
+straight hard drive, this time at eye and brain, she flung him aside
+disdainfully and rushed to her shivering little ones, questioning,
+chiding, praising them, all in the same breath, fluttering and
+cackling low in an hysteric wave of tenderness. Then she swam twice
+around the dead muskrat and led her brood away from the place.
+
+Perhaps it was to one of those same little ones that I owe a service
+for which I am more than grateful. It was in September, when I was at
+a lake ten miles away--the same lake into which a score of frolicking
+young loons gathered before moving south, and swam a race or two for
+my benefit. I was lost one day, hopelessly lost, in trying to make my
+way from a wild little lake where I had been fishing, to the large
+lake where my camp was. It was late afternoon. To avoid the long hard
+tramp down a river, up which I had come in the early morning, I
+attempted to cut across through unbroken forest without a compass.
+Traveling through a northern forest in summer is desperately hard
+work. The moss is ankle deep, the underbrush thick; fallen logs lie
+across each other in hopeless confusion, through and under and over
+which one must make his laborious way, stung and pestered by hordes of
+black flies and mosquitoes. So that, unless you have a strong instinct
+of direction, it is almost impossible to hold your course without a
+compass, or a bright sun, to guide you.
+
+I had not gone half the distance before I was astray. The sun was long
+obscured, and a drizzling rain set in, without any direction whatever
+in it by the time it reached the underbrush where I was. I had begun
+to make a little shelter, intending to put in a cheerless night there,
+when I heard a cry, and looking up caught a glimpse of Hukweem
+speeding high over the tree-tops. Far down on my right came a faint
+answering cry, and I hastened in its direction, making an Indian
+compass of broken twigs as I went along. Hukweem was a young loon, and
+was long in coming down. The crying ahead grew louder. Stirred up from
+their day rest by his arrival, the other loons began their sport
+earlier than usual. The crying soon became almost continuous, and I
+followed it straight to the lake.
+
+Once there, it was a simple matter to find the river and my old canoe
+waiting patiently under the alders in the gathering twilight. Soon I
+was afloat again, with a sense of unspeakable relief that only one
+can appreciate who has been lost and now hears the ripples sing under
+him, knowing that the cheerless woods lie behind, and that the
+camp-fire beckons beyond yonder point. The loons were hallooing far
+away, and I went over--this time in pure gratitude--to see them again.
+But my guide was modest and vanished post-haste into the mist the
+moment my canoe appeared.
+
+Since then, whenever I hear Hukweem in the night, or hear others speak
+of his unearthly laughter, I think of that cry over the tree-tops, and
+the thrilling answer far away. And the sound has a ring to it, in my
+ears, that it never had before. Hukweem the Night Voice found me
+astray in the woods, and brought me safe to a snug camp.--That is a
+service which one does not forget in the wilderness.
+
+
+
+
+
+                     GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES.
+
+
+
+Cheplahgan,       _chep-lah'-gan_, the bald eagle.
+
+Chigwooltz,       _chig-wooltz'_, the bullfrog.
+
+Clote Scarpe,      a legendary hero, like Hiawatha, of the
+                   Northern Indians. Pronounced variously, Clote
+                   Scarpe, Groscap, Gluscap, etc.
+
+Hukweem,          _huk-weem'_, the great northern diver, or loon.
+
+Ismaques,         _iss-ma-ques'_, the fish-hawk.
+
+Kagax,            _kag'-ax_, the weasel.
+
+Killooleet,       _kil'-loo-leet_, the white-throated sparrow.
+
+Kookooskoos,      _koo-koo-skoos'_, the great horned owl.
+
+Lhoks,            _locks_, the panther.
+
+Malsun,           _mal'-sun_, the wolf.
+
+Meeko,            _meek'-o_, the red squirrel.
+
+Megaleep,         _meg'-a-leep_, the caribou.
+
+Milicete,         _mil'-i-cete_, the name of an Indian tribe;
+                   written also Malicete.
+
+Moktaques,        _mok-ta'-ques_, the hare.
+
+Mooween,          _moo-ween'_, the black bear.
+
+Nemox,            _nem'-ox_, the fisher.
+
+Pekquam,          _pek-wam'_, the fisher.
+
+Seksagadagee,     _sek'-sa-ga-da'-gee_, the grouse.
+
+Tookhees,         _tok'-hees_, the wood mouse.
+
+Upweekis,         _up-week'-iss_, the Canada lynx.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilderness Ways, by William J Long
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #15950 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15950)
author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:47:50 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:47:50 -0700
commit	0b19039842107e833fe2bc68962a797d2c5cd348 (patch)
tree	e91e2760562a18ad4e49c799e36e8b114074ece3