ifting along shore silently to catch the night sounds and smells of
the woods, I would listen with childish anticipation for Killooleet's
welcome as I approached the landing. He had learned to recognize the
sounds of my coming, the rub of a careless paddle, the ripple of
water under the bow, or the grating of pebbles on the beach; and with
Simmo asleep, and the fire low, it was good to be welcomed back by a
cheery little voice in the darkness; for he always sang when he heard
me. Sometimes I would try to surprise him; but his sleep was too light
and his ears too keen. The canoe would glide up to the old cedar and
touch the shore noiselessly; but with the first crunch of gravel under
my foot, or the rub of my canoe as I lifted it out, he would waken;
and his song, all sweetness and cheer, _I'm here, sweet
Killooleet-lillooleet-lillooleet_, would ripple out of the dark
underbrush where his nest was.

I am glad now to think that I never saw that nest, though it was
scarcely ten yards from my tent, until after the young had flown, and
Killooleet cared no more about it. I knew the bush in which it was,
close by the deer path; could pick out from my fireplace the thick
branch that sheltered it; for I often watched the birds coming and
going. I have no doubt that Killooleet would have welcomed me there
without fear; but his mate never laid aside her shyness about it,
never went to it directly when I was looking, and I knew he would like
me better if I respected her little secret.

Soon, from the mate's infrequent visits, and from the amount of food
which Killooleet took away with him, I knew she was brooding her eggs.
And when at last both birds came together, and, instead of helping
themselves hungrily, each took the largest morsel he could carry and
hurried away to the nest, I knew that the little ones were come; and I
spread the plate more liberally, and moved it away to the foot of the
old cedar, where Killooleet's mate would not be afraid to come at any
time.

One day, not long after, as I sat at a late breakfast after the
morning's fishing, there was a great stir in the underbrush. Presently
Killooleet came skipping out, all fuss and feathers, running back and
forth with an air of immense importance between the last bush and the
plate by the cedar, crying out in his own way, "Here it is, here it
is, all right, just by the old tree as usual. Crackers, trout, brown
bread, porridge; come on, come on; don't be afraid. _He