mp-fire.

Of course we carried our arms, not knowing whom we should meet with.

After examining the spot carefully, Big Otter stood up and was about to
speak to our chief, when a slight peculiar chirp was heard in the
bushes. It is probable that we should have deemed it that of some small
bird and paid no attention to it if our Indian had not suddenly bent his
head on one side as if to listen. At the same time he replied to the
chirp. Again the sound was heard, and Big Otter, turning round quickly,
without uttering a word, entered the bushes and disappeared.

"Stand ready, lads!" said Lumley in a quiet voice, bringing forward the
muzzle of his gun, "there's no saying what may come of this."

Scarcely had he spoken when a rustling was heard in the bushes. Next
moment they were thrust aside and Big Otter reissued from them, followed
by two Indians, whom he introduced to us as his brother and nephew. At
the same time he gave us the gratifying information that his tribe had
moved up from the region in which they usually dwelt for the purpose of
hunting and fishing in the neighbourhood of the lake, and that the camp
was not more than six or seven miles distant, from the spot on which we
stood.

To this Lumley replied by expressing his gratification at the news, and
shaking hands with the two Indians, who, however, received the shake
with some distrust and much surprise, until Big Otter explained the
nature and meaning of the white man's salutation. He also explained the
meaning of "What cheer." On hearing which Maqua, not to be outdone in
politeness, extended his hand for another shake, and exclaimed
"Watchee!" with profound gravity. Mozwa, with some hesitation, imitated
his father's example.

While we were thus pleasantly engaged, a sonorous trumpet sound was
heard behind the clump of small trees near us. A moment later and two
magnificent wild swans sailed over the tree-tops and above our heads.
They made a tumultuously wild swoop to one side on discovering the near
proximity of their enemy man but were too late. Almost before any of
the party had time to move a muscle, two sharp cracks were heard, and
both swans fell stone dead, with a heavy splash, at the margin of the
lake.

It was our chief, Jack Lumley, who had brought them down with his
double-barrelled fowling-piece. I have omitted to mention that Lumley
was one of the noted crack-shots of the country at that time--noted not
only for the deadly pr