4 Sporting Sketches 



the cold, thin upper air. Wa-Wa himself is leading, 

 for none other so well understands how best to 

 wedge opposing airs, or when to rise above, or to 

 dip below quarrelling winds. He also best knows 

 the route, for he has been over it, to and fro, each 

 spring and fall, ever since that wonderful first 

 autumn when his parents shepherded him and his 

 brothers and sisters from Arctic meadows down to 

 the lazy, locked lagoons of the South. 



" En avant ! " He loves to give that order. For 

 many years he has set the pace, yet each succeeding 

 season has found him keener for the northward 

 flight. He may dawdle when southward bound, 

 but going north is different. Then he always fol- 

 lows the old trail, stooping to this plain and that 

 lake, and tarrying only for food and rest, or while 

 temporarily storm-bound, until he reaches a certain 

 point. From this he bears west-by-north until the 

 forest dwindles and below him spread two big lakes 

 with a little lake between. Into this little lake runs 

 a big river and out of it runs another big river. 

 The little lake is ringed with marshes, beyond which, 

 upon one side, lie leagues of level fat-lands, squared 

 with withered corn and the green of winter wheat. 

 Here he always halts for rest and refreshments. He 

 may stay a week or a month. It matters not, for it 

 is the loveliest spot, save one, along the route. The 

 other spot is his birthplace, away up in a Manitoba 

 muskeg. Its real merit is its privacy, otherwise 

 it is a rotten bad place, but then everybody knows 

 what a goose a goose is apt to be over goose affairs ! 



Wa-Wa has another and a private reason for 

 halting by the little lake. Years ago, during his 



