fife and drum. Listening, we heard the faint familiar strains of
"Yankee Doodle." We came ashore in silence, and I hugged the
nearest tree, and was not able to say the "Thank God!" that fell
from my lips only half spoken.




XVI

We got our bearings, a pair of boots for D'ri, and a hearty meal in
the cabin of a settler. The good man was unfamiliar with the upper
shore, and we got no help in our mystery. Starting west, in the
woods, on our way to the Harbor, we stopped here and there to
listen, but heard only wood-thrush and partridge--the fife and drum
of nature. That other music had gone out of hearing. We had no
compass, but D'ri knew the forest as a crow knows the air. He knew
the language of the trees and the brooks. The feel of the bark and
what he called "the lean of the timber" told him which way was
south. River and stream had a way of telling him whence they had
come and where they were going, but he had no understanding of a
map. I remember, after we had come to the Harbor at dusk and told
our story, the general asked him to indicate our landing-place and
our journey home on a big map at headquarters. D'ri studied the
map a brief while. There was a look of embarrassment on his sober
face.

"Seems so we come ashore 'bout here," said he, dropping the middle
finger of his right hand in the vicinity of Quebec. "Then we
travelled aw-a-a-ay hellwards over 'n this 'ere direction." With