. Wilderness ways; . easts that disturbed the wilderness;and Hukweem alone, of all the birds and animals,remained true to his master. For hunting makesstrong friendship, says Simmo; and that is does Hukweem go through the world,looking for his master and calling him to come the tree-tops, when he flies low looking for newwaters; high in air, out of sight, on his southernmigrations; and on every lake where he is only avoice, the sad night voice of the vast solitary unknownwilderness—everywhere you hear him seeking. Evenon the seacoast in winter, where he knows CloteScar
. Wilderness ways; . easts that disturbed the wilderness;and Hukweem alone, of all the birds and animals,remained true to his master. For hunting makesstrong friendship, says Simmo; and that is does Hukweem go through the world,looking for his master and calling him to come the tree-tops, when he flies low looking for newwaters; high in air, out of sight, on his southernmigrations; and on every lake where he is only avoice, the sad night voice of the vast solitary unknownwilderness—everywhere you hear him seeking. Evenon the seacoast in winter, where he knows CloteScarpe cannot be — for Clote Scarpe hates the sea —Hukweem forgets himself, and cries occasionally outof pure loneliness. When I asked what Hukweem says when he cries— for all cries of the wilderness have their interpreta-tion— Simmo answered: Wy, he say two ting. Firsthe say, Where are you ? O where are you ? Dasswhat you call-um his laugh, like he crazy. Denn,wen nobody answer, he say, O I so sorry, so sorry!. Hukweem the Night Voice. 135 Ooooo-eee! like woman lost in woods. An dass histother cry. This comes nearer to explaining the wild unearth-liness of Hukweems call than anything else I makes things much simpler to understand, when youare camped deep in the wilderness, and the night falls,and out of the misty darkness under the farther shorecomes a wild shivering call that makes ones nervestingle till he finds out about it — Where are you ?O where are you? That is just like Hukweem. Sometimes, however, he varies the cry, and asks veryplainly: Who are you ? O who are you ? Therewas a loon on the Big Squattuk lake, where I campedone summer, which was full of inquisitiveness as ablue jay. He lived alone at one end of the lake,while his mate, with her brood of two, lived at theother end, nine miles away. Every morning andevening he came close to my camp — very muchnearer than is usual, for loons are wild and shy inthe wilderness — to cry out his challenge.
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