prefer goose to anything else," said he, and proceeded to tell us
of goose hunts "down the bay" and of divers big Indian feasts. At
length all the goose was gone but one very small piece. "I'll eat
that for a snack before I sleep," said George, as he started to put
the giblets to stew for breakfast.

The fire died down until nothing remained save a heap of glowing
embers. For a long time we sat in the darkness over an extra pot
of tea. At first, silence; and then, while George and I puffed
complacently on our pipes, Hubbard, who never smoked, entertained
us with more of Kipling. "The Feet of the Young Men" was one of
his favourites, and that night he put more than his usual feeling
into the words:

"Now the Four-way Lodge is opened, now the Hunting Winds
are loose--
Now the Smokes of Spring go up to clear the brain;
Now the Young Men's hearts are troubled for the whisper of the
Trues,
Now the Red Gods make their medicine again!
Who hath seen the beaver busied?
Who hath watched the black-tail mating?
Who hath lain alone to hear the wild-goose cry?
Who hath worked the chosen water where the ouananiche is waiting,
Or the sea-trout's jumping--crazy for the fly?

He must go--go--go away from here!
On the other side the world he's overdue.
'Send your road is clear before you when the old
Spring-fret comes o'er you