TA Y-BUN-ANE-JE-GA Y. 281 



on a log, and the whining kept up. If it was a bear I 

 wanted to see how it stood in order to plant the bullet 

 right ; but in stepping one side I made a slight noise, and 

 an Indian boy about six years old turned around. He 

 dropped, crawled behind the log, and then jumped into 

 the brush and out of sight. Probably it was the first 

 white man he had ever seen. Then I knew that what 

 I mistook for the whining of a bear was the boy's low 

 singing. The story he told his mother would be interest- 

 ing, if we knew it. 



Getting back to the higher land again, I sat awhile on 

 a log enjoying the clear, cold air and the glimpse of the 

 frozen lake. After awhile there was another sound of 

 life, and I saw a sight which I never have seen recorded 

 by any writer of the woods. Below, in an open spot in 

 the underbrush, perhaps of twenty feet diameter, and not 

 over twenty feet away, came a troop of about thirty ruffed 

 grouse or partridges of the Eastern States, and they were 

 clucking and chattering at a great rate. The males were 

 strutting with tails spread out like turkey cocks, or more 

 like tame pigeons. I was in plain sight, and tried not to 

 breathe for fear of disturbing them, for it was the treat 

 of a lifetime. Among these birds was a male, I had no 

 doubt the same species, which was black. Of course I 

 can't at this late day, and in view of my very slight knowl- 

 edge of such things at that time, be certain that this was a 

 case of melanism in Bonasa, but I believe it. 



Later I saw several ptarmigan, which I then thought 

 to be white ruffed grouse, but did not kill any. Some- 

 thing alarmed the partridges, and they flew into the trees, 

 and I picked off three. The shots brought an Indian, a 

 stranger, who begged for a bird, and I gave him one. 

 These men were persistent beggars; they thought every 

 white man was wealthy. They seemed to roam the 



