. Wilderness ways; . d who never looked on death, wherethe great silent herd is that no caribou ever sees butonce ? And what strange instinct guides Megaleepto the spot where all his wanderings end at last ? II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE. HE day was cold, the woodswere wet, and the weatherwas beastly altogether when Kil-looleet first came and sang on myridgepole. The fishing was poordown in the big lake, and therewere signs of civilization hereand there, in the shape of set-tlers cabins, which we did notlike; so we had pushed up river,Simmo and I, thirty miles in therain, to a favorite ca
. Wilderness ways; . d who never looked on death, wherethe great silent herd is that no caribou ever sees butonce ? And what strange instinct guides Megaleepto the spot where all his wanderings end at last ? II. KILLOOLEET, LITTLE SWEET-VOICE. HE day was cold, the woodswere wet, and the weatherwas beastly altogether when Kil-looleet first came and sang on myridgepole. The fishing was poordown in the big lake, and therewere signs of civilization hereand there, in the shape of set-tlers cabins, which we did notlike; so we had pushed up river,Simmo and I, thirty miles in therain, to a favorite camping groundon a smaller lake, where we had the wilderness all toourselves. The rain was still falling, and the lake white-capped, and the forest all misty and wind-blownwhen we ran our canoes ashore by the old cedarthat marked our landing place. First we built abig fire to dry some boughs to sleep upon; then webuilt our houses, Simmo a bark commoosie, and I a little tent; and I was inside, getting dry clothes out 26. Killooleet y Little Sweet-Voice. 27 of a rubber bag, when I heard a white-throated spar-row calling cheerily his Indian name, O hear, sweetKillooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet! And the sound was sosunny, so good to hear in the steady drip of rain onthe roof, that I went out to see the little fellow whohad bid us welcome to the wilderness. Simmo had heard too. He was on his hands andknees, just his dark face peering by the corner stakeof his commoosie, so as to see better the little singeron my tent. — Have better weather and better lucknow. Killooleet sing on ridgepole, he said confi-dently. Then we spread some cracker crumbs forthe guest and turned in to sleep till better times. That was the beginning of a long was also the first of many social calls from a wholecolony of white-throats (Tom-Peabody birds) thatlived on the mountain-side just behind my tent, andthat came one by one to sing to us, and to getacquainted, and to share our crumbs. Sometime
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