singing. Now, even among the
shadows, the snow was slinking away; while the river ice, plunging
along with a roar, ran down to the lake where it rested quietly in a
space of open water.

Now, too, it so happened that day, that Neykia, she of woodland grace
and beauty, was strolling in the sunshine with her Little Pine; while
on every side the trees were shaking their heads and it seemed
gossiping about the hunting plans of that reckless little elfin hunter,
Hymen, who was hurrying overland and shooting his joyous arrows in
every direction, till the very air felt charged with the whisperings of
countless lovers. It made me think of the shy but radiant Athabasca,
and I wondered--was her lover with her now?

THE SPRING HUNT

The Indians divide their annual hunt for fur into three distinct
hunting seasons: the fall hunt--from autumn until Christmas; the winter
hunt--from New Year's Day until Easter; and the spring hunt--from
Easter until the hunters depart for their tribal summer camping ground.
At the end of each hunting season--if the fur-runners have not traded
with the hunters and if the hunter is not too far away from the
post--he usually loads upon his sled the result of his fall hunt and
hauls it to the Post during Christmas week; likewise he hauls to the
Post the catch of his winter hunt about Easter time; while the gain
from his spring hunt is loaded aboard his canoe and taken to the Post
the latter part of May. Easter time, or the end of the winter hunt,
marks the closing of the hunting season for all land animals except
bear; and the renewing of the hunting season for bear, beaver, otter,
mink, and muskrat, all water animals save the first.

Meanwhile, the canoes had been overhauled: freshly patched, stitched,
and gummed, their thwarts strengthened, their ribs adjusted, and their
bottoms greased.

A few days later, loading some traps and kit--among which was the
hunter's bow and quiver of arrows--aboard his small canoe, Oo-koo-hoo
and I set out at sunrise and paddling around the western end of Bear
Lake, entered Bear River. It was a cold but delightful morning, and
the effect of the sun shining through the rising mist was extremely
beautiful. We were going otter- and muskrat-hunting; and as we
descended that charming little stream and wound about amid its marshy
flats and birch- and poplar-clad slopes, every once in a while ducks
startled us by suddenly whirring out of the mist. Then, when long
li