KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET- 

 VOICE 



'HE day was cold, 

 the woods were 

 wet, and the weather 

 was trying patience 

 and temper sorely 

 when Killooleet first 

 came and sang on my 

 ridgepole. Fishing 

 was poor down in the 

 big lake, and there 

 were signs of civiliza- 

 tion here and there, 

 which we did not like ; so we had pushed up 

 river, Simmo and I, thirty miles in the rain, 

 to a smaller lake, where we had the wilder- 

 ness all to ourselves. 



The rain was still falling, the lake white- 

 capped, and the forest all misty and 

 287 



