there ahead of us with his loud clicking reel. The osprey was there,
too, and I saw him abusing the bald eagle, who had probably just robbed
him of a fish. The yellow-rumped warbler I saw, and one of the kinglets
was leading its lisping brood about through the spruces. In every
opening the white-throated sparrow abounded, striking up his clear
sweet whistle, at times so loud and sudden that one's momentary
impression was that some farm boy was approaching, or was secreted
there behind the logs. Many times, amid those primitive solitudes, I
was quite startled by the human tone and quality of this whistle. It is
little more than a beginning; the bird never seems to finish the strain
suggested. The Canada jay was there also, very busy about some
important private matter.

One lowery morning, as I was standing in camp, I saw a lot of ducks
borne swiftly down by the current around the bend in the river a few
rods above. They saw me at the same instant and turned toward the
shore. On hastening up there, I found the old bird rapidly leading her
nearly grown brood through the woods, as if to go around our camp. As I
pursued them they ran squawking with outstretched stubby wings,
scattering right and left, and seeking a hiding-place under the logs
and débris. I captured one and carried it into camp. It was just what
Joe wanted; it would make a valuable decoy. So he kept it in a box, fed
it upon oats, and took it out of the woods with him.

We found the camp we had appropriated was a favorite stopping-place of
the carmen who hauled in supplies for the gang of two hundred road-
builders. One rainy day near nightfall no less than eight carts drew up
at the old stable, and the rain-soaked drivers, after picketing and
feeding their horses, came down to our fire. We were away, and Joe met
us on our return with the unwelcome news. We kept open house so far as