240 THE HALCYON IN CANADA. 



the white-throated sparrow abounded, striking up his 

 clear sweet whistle at tunes so loud and sudden that 

 one's momentary impression was that some farm boy 

 was approaching, or was secreted there behind the 

 logs. Many times, amid those primitive solitudes, I 

 was quite startled by the human tone and quality of 

 this whistle. It is little more than a beginning ; the 

 bird never seems to finish the strain suggested. The 

 Canada jay was there also very busy about some im- 

 portant private matter. 



One lowery morning as I was standing in camp I 

 saw a lot of ducks borne swiftly down by the current 

 around the bend in the river a few rods above. 

 They saw me at the same instant and turned toward 

 the shore. On hastening up there I found the old 

 bird rapidly leading her nearly grown brood through 

 the woods, as if to go around our camp. As I pur- 

 sued them they ran squawking with outstretched 

 stubby wings, scattering right and left, and seeking a 

 hiding-place under the logs and debris ; I captured 

 one and carried it into camp. It was just what Joe 

 wanted ; it would make a valuable decoy. So he 

 kept it in a box, fed it upon oats and took it out of 

 the woods with him. 



We found the camp we had appropriated was a 

 favorite stopping-place of the carmen who hauled in 

 supplies for the gang of two hundred road-builders. 

 One rainy day near nightfall no less than eight carts 

 drew up at the old stable, and the rain-soaked drivers, 

 tfter picketing and feeding their horses, came down 



