eat from my tin plate, till after I had gone 

 away. 



Never a day now passed that one or both TiUlooleef, 

 of the birds did not rest on my tent. When '^^^^^. 

 I put my head out, like a turtle out of his Voice 

 shell, in the early morning, to look at the 

 weather, Killooleet would look down from 

 the projecting end of the ridgepole and sing 

 good-morning. And when I had been out 

 late on the lake, night-fishing, or following 

 the inlet for beaver, or watching the grassy 

 points for caribou, or just drifting along 

 shore silently to catch the night sounds and 

 •smells of the woods, I would listen with 

 eager anticipation for Killooleet's welcome 

 as I approached the landing. He had 

 learned to recognize the sounds of my com- 

 ing, the rub of a careless paddle, the ripple 

 of water under the bow, or the grating of 

 pebbles on the beach; and with Simmo 

 asleep and the fire low, it was good to be 

 welcomed back by a cheery little voice in 

 the darkness; for he always sang when he 

 heard me. Sometimes I would try to sur- 

 prise him; but his sleep was too light and 



