white-throated sparrow, which we heard and saw everywhere on the route.
He is called here _le siffleur_ (the whistler), and very delightful his
whistle was. From the forest came the evening hymn of a thrush, the
olive-backed perhaps, like but less clear and full than the veery's.

In the evening we sat about the fire in rude homemade chairs, and had
such broken and disjointed talk as we could manage. Our host had lived
in Quebec and been a school-teacher there; he had wielded the birch
until he lost his health, when he came here and the birches gave it
back to him. He was now hearty and well, and had a family of six or
seven children about him.

We were given a good bed that night, and fared better than we expected.
About one o'clock I was awakened by suppressed voices outside the
window. Who could it be? Had a band of brigands surrounded the house?
As our outfit and supplies had not been removed from the wagon in front
of the door I got up, and, lifting one corner of the window paper,
peeped out: I saw in the dim moonlight four or five men standing about
engaged in low conversation. Presently one of the men advanced to the
door and began to rap and call the name of our host. Then I knew their
errand was not hostile; but the weird effect of that regular alternate
rapping and calling ran through my dream all the rest of the night.
Rat-tat, tat, tat,--La Chance; rat-tat, tat,--La Chance, five or six
times repeated before La Chance heard and responded. Then the door
opened and they came in, when it was jabber, jabber, jabber in the next
room till I fell asleep.

In the morning, to my inquiry as to who the travelers were and what
they wanted, La Chance said they were old acquaintances going
a-fishing, and had stopped to have a little talk.