is wonderful canoe,--one he had built for himself on an entirely
new plan.

"Now Mit-chee had reasoned that if a boat having two ends could be rowed
in two ways, one which was all ends (that is, round) could be rowed in
every direction. So he had made a canoe exactly like a nest, perfectly
round. When the honest feathered folk saw this, they were greatly amazed
and wondered that so simple a thing had not occurred to all of them.

"But when Mit-chee got into his new canoe and began to paddle, their
wonder turned into amusement, for he made no headway at all. However
hard he worked, the canoe simply turned round and round.

"After wearying himself, and all in vain, he went ashore, and flew off
far inland. There he hid himself for shame under the low bushes in the
woods, and there he has lived ever since. But at certain seasons, when
he thought no one was looking, he would get upon a dead log and drum
with his wings, and the sound was like the sound which he used to make
when he was building canoes.

"And so his children have always done since that day."

[Illustration]

XXV. MOTHER WA-POOSE AND OLD BOZE THE HOUND

Up at the edge of the woods the wood-cutters had felled a tree into the
open pasture. As they trimmed the trunk, they threw the smaller branches
into a big pile. Uncle Mark intended to burn them when they became dry
enough, but forgot all about it. There they had lain for years, till
they were dead and covered with moss. Over the heap of half-rotted
brushwood a tangle of wild vines had spread, and up through them a
thicket of blackberry bushes had grown.

This was just the place for a rabbit nest. Mother Wa-poose could squat
anywhere in the pile and her brown coat would blend with the dead brush
so perfectly that only the keenest eye could see her. No hawk or owl
could swoop through such a tangle of vines and brush, and no fox or dog
could creep through the close-set hedge of thorny blackberry bushes
without losing a good deal of his hide.

Through the thicket Mother Wa-poose cut two or three paths just wide
enough for herself, but not big enough for a dog or a fox. In the middle
of the brush pile, she dug a little round hollow about a foot across and
lined it with coarse grass. On the top of this she placed another lining
of finer grass. Then she filled the hollow quite full of soft fur from
her own coat. No bird's nest could be cosier or safer. To be sure, it
was on the ground, but the