38 



Ways of Wood Folk. 



the little fellow still paddled away, doing his best 

 pathetically. 



One afternoon the canoe glided round a point and 

 ran almost up to the brood before they saw it, giving 

 them a terrible fright. Away they went on the instant, 







putter, putter, putter, lifting themselves almost out 

 of water with the swift-moving feet and tiny wings. 

 The mother bird took wing, returned and crossed 

 the bow of the canoe, back and forth, with loud 

 quackings. The weakling was behind as usual ; and 

 in a sudden spirit of curiosity or perversity — for 

 I really had a good deal of sympathy for the little 



