THE HALCYON IN CANADA. 223 



the route. He is called here la siffleur the whis- 

 tler, and very delightful his whistle was. From the 

 forest came the evening hymn of a thrush, the olive- 

 backed, perhaps, like, but less clear and full than, the 

 veeries'. 



In the evening we sat about the fire in rude home- 

 made chairs, and had such broken and disjointed 

 talk as we could manage. Our host had lived in 

 Quebec and been a school-teacher there ; he had 

 wielded the birch until he lost his health, when he 

 came here and the birches gave it back to him. He 

 was now hearty and well, and had a family of six or 

 seven children about him. 



We were given a good bed that night, and fared 

 better than we expected. About one o'clock I was 

 awakened by suppressed voices outside the window. 

 Who could it be? Had a band of brigands sur- 

 rounded the house ? As our outfit and supplies had 

 not been removed from the wagon in front of the 

 door I got up, and, lifting one corner of the window 

 paper, peeped out ; I saw in the dim moonlight four 

 or five men standing about engaged in low conversa- 

 tion. Presently one of the men advanced to the 

 door and began to rap and call the name of our host. 

 Then I knew their errand was not hostile ; but the 

 weird effect of that regular alternate rapping and 

 calling ran through my dream all the rest of the 

 night. Rat-tat, tat, tat, La Chance. Rat-tat, tat, 

 La Chance five or six times repeated, before La 

 Chance heard and responded. Then the door opened 



