ted with the grave solemnity of an owl, and
without any other recognition than a mild grunt, which was by no means
meant as a surly return of thanks, but as a quiet mode of intimating
that the attention was agreeable to his feelings.

It may, perhaps, be not unknown to the reader that grave reticence is
one of the characteristics of the Red men of the west. They are never
in a hurry to communicate their news, whether important or otherwise,
but usually, on arriving at any hospitable abode, sit down with calm
dignity and smoke a pipe, or make slight reference to unimportant
matters before coming to the main point of their visit--if it have a
main point at all. As it is with the Red men now, so was it with the
Bethucks at the time we write of. True, the pernicious practice of
smoking tobacco had not yet been introduced among them, so that the
social pipe was neither offered, desired, nor missed! but the Indian
accepted a birch-bark basket of soup with placid satisfaction, and
consumed it with slow felicity. Then, being offered a formidable
venison steak, he looked calmly at his host, blinked his thanks--or
whatever he felt--and devoured it.

"Has he got nothing to say for himself?" asked Captain Trench, surprised
at the man's silence.

"Plenty to say, I doubt not," answered Hendrick, who then explained to
the Captain the Indian characteristic just referred to.

"What a power of suction he has got" said Olly, referring not to the
Indian, but to the family baby which he had got on his knee, and was
feeding with a dangerously large lump of bear's fat.

"What does he say?" asked Paul, referring to their visitor, who, having
come to a temporary pause, with a sigh of contentment had said something
in his native tongue to Hendrick.

"He asked me if the singing-birds will gladden his ears and cause his
heart to thrill."

"What means he by that?"

"He only refers to a fact well known among the Indians," replied the
hunter, with a quiet smile, "that Trueheart and Goodred have such sweet
voices that they are known everywhere by the name of the singing-birds.
Happening to have some knowledge of music, I have trained them to sing
in parts one or two hymns taught to me by my mother, and composed, I
believe, by a good monk of the olden time. Some things in the hymns
puzzled me, I confess, until I had the good fortune to meet with you. I
understand them better now. You shall hear one of them."

So saying, he turned and