er were blistered. He bore it bravely, fearing only that the
Home Government might find it out, in which case he would have fared
worse. He had read that the Indians grease the skin for sunburn, so he
went to the bathroom and there used goose grease for lack of Buffalo
fat. This did give some relief, and in a few days he was better and
had the satisfaction of peeling the dead skin from his shoulders and
arms.

Yan made a number of vessels out of Birch bark, stitching the edges
with root fibers, filling the bottom with a round wooden disc, and
cementing the joints with pine gum so that they would hold water.

In the distant river he caught some Catfish and brought them
home--that, is, to his shanty. There he made a fire and broiled
them--very badly--but he ate them as a great delicacy. The sharp bone
in each of their side fins he saved, bored a hole through its thick
end, smoothed it, and so had needles to stitch his Birch bark. He kept
them in a bark box with some lumps of resin, along with some bark
fiber, an Indian flint arrow-head given him by a schoolmate, and
the claws of a large Owl, found in the garbage heap back of the
taxidermist's shop.

One day on the ash heap in their own yard in town he saw a new,
strange bird. He was always seeing new birds, but this was of unusual
interest. He drew its picture as it tamely fed near him. A dull, ashy
gray, with bronzy yellow spots on crown and rump, and white bars on
its wings. His "Birds of Canada" gave no light; he searched through
all the books he could find, but found no clew to its name. It was
years afterward before he learned that this was the young male Pine
Grosbeak.

Another day, under the bushes not far from his shanty, he found a
small Hawk lying dead. He clutched it as a wonderful prize, spent an
hour in looking at its toes, its beak, its wings, its every feather;
then he set to work to make a drawing of it. A very bad drawing it
proved, although it was the labour of days, and the bird was crawling
with maggots before he had finished. But every feather and every spot
was faithfully copied, was duly set down on paper. One of his
friends said it was a Chicken-hawk. That name stuck in Yan's memory.
Thenceforth the Chicken-hawk and its every marking were familiar to
him. Even in after years, when he had learned that this must have been
a young "Sharp-shin," the name "Chicken-hawk" was always readier on
his lips.

But he met with another and a different Hawk