he made a brief
speech in his own language, which, spoken in tones deep, melodious, and
earnest, and delivered with singular grace and dignity, ever after lived
in the white mother's remembrance like a strain of music, which, though
unintelligible to the ear, is understood and echoed by the heart. Then
the young Indian turned and, followed by Burl and Bushie, walked slowly
and thoughtfully away.

As side by side they pursued their tramp through the green entanglements
of the forest, the black hunter was far less talkative than usual, and
the red hunter scarcely spoke at all, though, Indian-like, listening
with respectful attention whenever his companion seemed to be addressing
him in particular. But, as if reserving all his regrets for the parting
moment, Bushie--now mounted on Burl's shoulder, now walking hand in hand
with Kumshakah--kept up a lively prattle which never ceased, and to
which the others listened with pleased ears. Sometimes, while riding
aloft, he would amuse himself by catching at the slender, pliant
branches of the trees brought within his reach, which he would draw
after him as far as he could bend them, then letting them fly back,
leave them swinging to and fro. At length, as if this amusement had
suggested it to his mind, the boy struck up a cadence from one of Burl's
songs, singing in a clear, piping voice:

An' de jay-bird flew away--
De jay-bird flew away--
An' lef' de lim' a-swingin'--
A-swingin'.

"Mus'n't sing sich songs on Sunday, Bushie--sing hymns on Sunday. So,
j'ine in wid me an' help me sing Caneyan's Happy Sho' for Kumshy, pore
Kumshy, who's gwine to leabe us, neber to come no mo'. It'll do him
good."

So, joining their voices, they sung a simple hymn which, with a
_plaintive melody_ expressive of yearning, had for its burden the
following words:

O dat will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O dat will be joyful, to meet to part no more;
To meet to part no more,
On Caneyan's happy shore;
An' dar we'll meet at Jesus' feet,
An' meet to part no more.

At noon they reached the spot where, a fortnight before, Kumshakah
brought down the eagle, which, stripped of its plumage and still
bleeding, Burl had found on the trail a few hours after. Here a spring
of clear, cool, sparkling water gurgled out from underneath a moss-grown
rock in the hill-side, and here they halted. They quenched their thirst
from the spring, then seating themselves on the mos