as if in the evening’s programme a place of honor had been reserved for this incomparable songster. Stanley’s eyes filled with tears as the sad, sweet notes were poured forth. It seemed as if the singer were telling about other days, when all was pure and true, and a shadow of homesickness fell upon the youth as he sought to interpret the song.
With bowed head he stumbled along the bank and without any particular purpose groped his way back to the lean-to.
Charlie was re-arranging the fire, seemingly; in reality about to set forth in quest of the wanderer.
“Git nerve back?” asked Charlie, gently.
“I heard the most beautiful song,” cried Stanley. “It will ring in my ears at night-fall, so long as I live, I hope.”
“See bear? See panther?” gravely inquired the guide.
“No; I saw nothing. I was so absorbed with my music that I nearly broke my neck tripping over the canoe. When I fell my hand fortunately struck the paddle and I saved myself.”
Noisy Charlie straightened with the lithe ease and quickness of a panther and picked up his rifle. Abner, too, seemed electrified and
