a drive with the dogs. "We
have travelled over a dozen miles and have not heard a single bird
song."

"Only a whisky jack," said Roderick.

This reply of Roderick's made everybody laugh; for the shrill, harsh cry
of the Indians' sacred bird, called by the very unpoetical name of
whisky jack, is not very musical, but just the reverse.

"Our singing birds are all in the sunny South Land during these cold
months," said Mr Ross. "We have multitudes of them during our brief
summer time. Then, at the first breath of the Frost King, they flit
away and leave us so still and quiet."

"What about this saucy bird, here called whisky jack, that we meet with
on all of our wintry journeys?" asked Alec.

"Well," replied Mrs Ross, "you see, in the first place, that he is not
very handsome. His bluish-grey plumage is not very attractive, but he
has an inner coating of black down, and if you could strip him of both
of these jackets you would find him to be a very small bird after all.
The Indians used to call him their sacred bird. They never kill one, no
matter how hungry they may be. They have some beautiful traditions
associated with him. His voice, so harsh and loud, is, according to
some legends, the cry of a fair maiden who, fleeing from a hateful
suitor, was lost in a blizzard. In vain she called for her own
sweetheart, until her once musical voice became so harsh and rough that
it lost its beauty. To prevent her from falling into the hands of her
hated suitor, just as he was about [to seize] her the magicians changed
her, in answer to her prayer, into a bird, and this is the whisky jack."

"Our next most interesting winter bird," said Mr Ross, "is the
ptarmigan, or white partridge. The colder the winter the more numerous
they seem to be. They are easily snared, like the rabbits, as they have
certain favourite runs, and do not seem to observe the twine or wire
loops into which they so foolishly run their heads."

"Where do they sleep at nights?" asked little Roderick.

"Faith, and I know," said Sam; "for was I not fairly frightened out of
my wits by a lot of them one night when travelling late to the camp to
drive over a snowdrift into which they were burying themselves? I saw
them fly up high in the air, and then, like a stone, they just shot
themselves down and buried themselves out of sight of myself and those
who were with me."

"Yes," said Alec, "and I well remember how they startled me several
times a