hed it. Skookum still slept. Both men watched the mouse, as,
with quick movements it crept about. Presently it approached a long
birch stick that stood up against the wall. High hanging was the
song-drum. Rolf wished Quonab would take it and let it open his heart,
but he dared not offer it; that might have the exact wrong effect. Now
the mouse was behind the birch stick. Then Rolf noticed that the stick
if it were to fall would strike a drying line, one end of which was
on the song-drum peg. So he made a dash at the mouse and displaced the
stick; the jerk it gave the line sent the song-drum with hollow bumping
to the ground. The boy stooped to replace it; as he did, Quonab grunted
and Rolf turned to see his hand stretched for the drum. Had Rolf
officiously offered it, it would have been refused; now the Indian took
it, tapped and warmed it at the fire, and sang a song of the Wabanaki.
It was softly done, and very low, but Rolf was close, for almost the
first time in any long rendition, and he got an entirely new notion of
the red music. The singer's face brightened as he tummed and sang with
peculiar grace notes and throat warbles of "Kaluscap's war with the
magi," and the spirit of his people, rising to the sweet magic of
melody, came shining in his eyes. He sang the lovers' song, "The Bark
Canoe." (See F. R. Burton's "American Primitive Music.)

"While the stars shine and falls the dew, I seek my love in bark canoe."

And then the cradle song,

"The Naked Bear Shall Never Catch Thee."

When he stopped, he stared at the fire; and after a long pause Rolf
ventured, "My mother would have loved your songs."

Whether he heard or not, the warm emanation surely reached the Indian,
and he began to answer the question of an hour before:

"Her name was Gamowini, for she sang like the sweet night bird at
Asamuk. I brought her from her father's house at Saugatuck. We lived at
Myanos. She made beautiful baskets and moccasins. I fished and trapped;
we had enough. Then the baby came. He had big round eyes, so we called
him Wee-wees, 'our little owl,' and we were very happy. When Gamowini
sang to her baby, the world seemed full of sun. One day when Wee-wees
could walk she left him with me and she went to Stamford with some
baskets to sell. A big ship was in the harbour. A man from the ship told
her that his sailors would buy all her baskets. She had no fear. On the
ship they seized her for a runaway slave, and hid her till t