s, which all lived peaceably together, understanding each
other's language, and "nobody ever ate anybody," as Simmo says. But
when Clote Scarpe went away they quarreled, and Lhoks the panther and
Nemox the fisher took to killing the other animals. Malsun the wolf
soon followed, and ate all he killed; and Meeko the squirrel, who
always makes all the mischief he can, set even the peaceable animals
by the ears, so that they feared and distrusted each other. Then they
scattered through the big woods, living each one for himself; and now
the strong ones kill the weak, and nobody understands anybody any
more.

There were no dogs in those days. Hukweem was Clote Scarpe's hunting
companion when he hunted the great evil beasts that disturbed the
wilderness; and Hukweem alone, of all the birds and animals, remained
true to his master. For hunting makes strong friendship, says Simmo;
and that is true. Therefore does Hukweem go through the world, looking
for his master and calling him to come back. Over the tree-tops, when
he flies low looking for new waters; high in air, out of sight, on his
southern migrations; and on every lake where he is only a voice, the
sad night voice of the vast solitary unknown wilderness--everywhere
you hear him seeking. Even on the seacoast in winter, where he knows
Clote Scarpe cannot be--for Clote Scarpe hates the sea--Hukweem
forgets himself, and cries occasionally out of pure loneliness.

When I asked what Hukweem says when he cries--for all cries of the
wilderness have their interpretation--Simmo answered: "Wy, he say two
ting. First he say, _Where are you? O where are you_? Dass what you
call-um his laugh, like he crazy. Denn, wen nobody answer, he say, _O
I so sorry, so sorry_! _Ooooo-eee_! like woman lost in woods. An'
dass his tother cry."

[Illustration: Hukweem]

This comes nearer to explaining the wild unearthliness of Hukweem's
call than anything else I know. It makes things much simpler to
understand, when you are camped deep in the wilderness, and the night
falls, and out of the misty darkness under the farther shore comes a
wild shivering call that makes one's nerves tingle till he finds out
about it--_Where are you? O where are you?_ That is just like Hukweem.

Sometimes, however, he varies the cry, and asks very plainly: "Who are
you? O who are you?" There was a loon on the Big Squattuk lake, where
I camped one summer, which was full of inquisitiveness as a blue jay.
He lived alo