rcely wait. Dancing and love-making suddenly
cloyed; for a man was made to conquer the wilderness and take the spoils
of the earth. "Woodsman's habits returned upon them. The frippery of the
island was dropped like the withes which bound Samson. Their companions
the Indians were also making ready the canoes. Blackbird stood erect
behind the elbow of John McGillis as he took leave of his cousin the
cobbler.

"Do ye moind, Owen," exclaimed John, turning from the interests
of active life to that which had disturbed his spirit, convinced
unalterably of his own widowed state, yet harrowed unspeakably, "ye
promised to show me that word from the old counthry before the boats
wint out."

"I niver promised to show ye any word from the old counthry," responded
Owen, having his mouth free of bandages and both eyes for the boats.

"Te tould me ye had a towken from the old counthry."

"I niver tould ye I had a towken from the old counthry."

"Ye did tell me ye had a towken."

"I have."

"Ye said it proved I was not a widdy."

"I did."

"Show me that same, thin."

"I will."

Owen looked steadily past John's shoulder at Blackbird, and laid in
John's hand a small gold coin with a hole in it, on one side of which
was rudely scratched the outline of a bird.

John McGillis's face burned red, and many expressions besides laughter
crossed it. Like a child detected in fault, he looked sheepishly at
Owen and glanced behind his shoulder. The faithful sunset-tinted face of
Blackbird, immovable as a fixed star, regarded the battered cobbler as
it might have regarded a great manitou when the island was young.

"How did you come by this, Owen?"

"I come by it from one that had throuble. Has yerself iver seen it
before, John McGillis?"

"I have."

"Is it a towken that ye're not a widdy?"

"It is."

The boats went out, and Blackbird sat in her Irish husband's boat, on
his baggage. Oars flashed, and the commandant's boat led the way. Then
the life of the Northwest rose like a great wave--the voyageurs' song
chanted by a hundred and fifty throats, with a chorus of thousands on
the shore:

[Illustration: Cobbler in the Devil's Kitchen 076]

Dans les chan - tiers nous hi - ver - ne - rons!

Dans lea chan - tiers nous hi - ver - ne - rons!

When Owen returned to his Kitchen he found a robe of the finest beaver
folded and laid on his shoemaker's bench.

"Begorra!" observed the cobbler, shaking it out and rubbi