n
Trumper's.

On the cool side of the house, Quonab had built a little lodge, using
a sheet for cover. On a low bed of pine boughs lay the child. Near the
door was a smouldering fire of cedar, whose aromatic fumes on the lazy
wind reached every cranny of the lodge.

Sitting by the bed head, with a chicken wing to keep off the few
mosquitoes, was the Indian. The child's eyes were closed; she was
sleeping peacefully. Rolf crept gently forward, laid his hand on hers,
it was cool and moist. He went into the house with his purchases; the
mother greeted him with a happy look: Yes, Annette was a little better;
she had slept quietly ever since she was taken outdoors. The mother
could not understand. Why should the Indian want to have her surrounded
by pine boughs? why cedar-smoke? and why that queer song? Yes, there it
was again. Rolf went out to see and hear. Softly summing on a tin
pan, with a mudded stick, the Indian sang a song. The words which Rolf
learned in the after-time were:

"Come, Kaluskap, drive the witches; Those who came to harm the dear
one."

Annette moved not, but softly breathed, as she slept a sweet, restful
slumber, the first for many days.

"Vouldn't she be better in de house?" whispered the anxious mother.

"No, let Quonab do his own way," and Rolf wondered if any white man had
sat by little Wee-wees to brush away the flies from his last bed.

Chapter 52. Annette's New Dress

Deep feelin's ain't any count by themselves; work 'em off,
an' ye're somebody; weep 'em off an' you'd be more use with
a heart o' stone--Sayings of Si Sylvanne.

"Quonab, I am going out to get her a partridge." "Ugh, good."

So Rolf went off. For a moment he was inclined to grant Skookom's prayer
for leave to, follow, but another and better plan came in mind. Skookum
would most likely find a mother partridge, which none should kill in
June, and there was a simple way to find a cock; that was, listen. It
was now the evening calm, and before Rolf had gone half a mile he
heard the distant "Thump, thump, thump, thump--rrrrrrr" of a partridge,
drumming. He went quickly and cautiously toward the place, then waited
for the next drumming. It was slow in coming, so he knelt down by a
mossy, rotten log, and struck it with his hands to imitate the thump and
roll of the partridge. At once this challenge procured response.

"Thump--thump--thump,, thump rrrrrrrrrrrr" it came, with martial swing
and fervour, and cra