ucked dosed under the sheltering rock, and, after washing his
hands in a basswood bowl, began to prepare his simple meal.

A tin-lined copper pot hanging over the fire was partly filled with
water; then, when it was boiling, some samp or powdered corn and some
clams were stirred in. While these were cooking, he took his smooth-bore
flint-lock, crawled gently over the ridge that screened his wigwam from
the northwest wind, and peered with hawk-like eyes across the broad
sheet of water that, held by a high beaver-dam, filled the little valley
of Asamuk Brook.

The winter ice was still on the pond, but in all the warming shallows
there was open water, on which were likely to be ducks. None were to be
seen, but by the edge of the ice was a round object which, although so
far away, he knew at a glance for a muskrat.

By crawling around the pond, the Indian could easily have come within
shot, but he returned at once to his wigwam, where he exchanged his gun
for the weapons of his fathers, a bow and arrows, and a long fish-line.
A short, quick stalk, and the muskrat, still eating a flagroot, was
within thirty feet. The fish-line was coiled on the ground and then
attached to an arrow, the bow bent--zip--the arrow picked up the line,
coil after coil, and trans-fixed the muskrat. Splash! and the animal was
gone under the ice.

But the cord was in the hands of the hunter; a little gentle pulling and
the rat came to view, to be despatched with a stick and secured. Had he
shot it with a gun, it had surely been lost.

He returned to his camp, ate his frugal breakfast, and fed a small,
wolfish-looking yellow dog that was tied in the lodge.

He skinned the muskrat carefully, first cutting a slit across the rear
and then turning the skin back like a glove, till it was off to the
snout; a bent stick thrust into this held it stretched, till in a day,
it was dry and ready for market. The body, carefully cleaned, he hung in
the shade to furnish another meal.

As he worked, there were sounds of trampling in the woods, and
presently a tall, rough-looking man, with a red nose and a curling white
moustache, came striding through brush and leaves. He stopped when
he saw the Indian, stared contemptuously at the quarry of the morning
chase, made a scornful remark about "rat-eater," and went on toward the
wigwam, probably to peer in, but the Indian's slow, clear, "keep away!"
changed his plan. He grumbled something about "copper-coloured tra