en
possible, to their old feeding grounds year after year.

After dinner the sport was resumed. When no flocks were near, the boys
would jump out of their nests and, by some racing and frolicking on the
ice, keep themselves warm, as there was much of winter still in the air.
The cry of "Niskuk! niskuk!" ("Geese! geese!") would send them racing
back to their respective nests, and it was often as much as they could
do to reach their retreats ere the geese were upon them.

A queer accident happened to Frank. As a small flock passed over the
nest in which Sam and Memotas were sitting Sam blazed away with his last
barrel, just as the geese had gone by. He struck one of them and
mortally wounded it, but it had vitality enough left to keep itself up
until it reached the nest where Frank and Mustagan were crouched down,
watching another flock that was approaching from the other side.
Without any warning the goose suddenly dropped dead with a whack on top
of Frank, knocking him over most thoroughly and causing his gun to
suddenly go off, but fortunately without hitting his Indian companion.
A great grey goose weighs something, and so the whack from this dead one
nearly knocked Frank senseless. The inmates of the other nests quickly
came to his assistance. He was so dazed with the blow that it was
decided that he and Sam, who had had about enough of goose-killing to
suit them, should go to the camp for the rest of the afternoon. It was
wisely thought that Sam's irrepressible fun and good nature would be the
best medicine for Frank for the time being.

That evening, when the shooting was over and all were seated on their
comfortable robes around the bright camp fire, there was a lot of talk
about Frank's queer accident. All were thankful that the blow did no
more serious harm. Mustagan said that he had shot geese flying over the
ice where they had fallen with such force that they had broken clean
through ice so strong that men could walk over it with safety.

"What do you think about it, Sam?" said Alec.

"Think about it, do you ask me?" replied Sam. "I have done a deal of
thinking about it. I've been thinking that was the queerest weapon of
offence I ever heard or dreamed of. I have heard of arrows and bullets
and darts and clubs and shillalahs and tomahawks and boomerangs, and
even thunderbolts, but the idea of hitting a poor, defenceless English
lad with a dead goose! it beats me hollow! Sure I can hardly belie