keenly interested. From his ancestors, all of whom belonged to the First Families of America, this young Carlisle man had inherited the wonderful lore of the woods. What could I not hope to accomplish if I had him with me!

When I broached the subject, he frowned, and said he must be going. Within four minutes he was gone, as completely as if the earth had swallowed him. I was left alone with my books, a half-eaten sardine sandwich, Kitchi-Kitchi, and my thoughts. 

I devoted some days to replenishing my larder. It was only twenty miles to the nearest village and I went every day, bringing back all I could carry each time. I laid in a liberal supply of pemmican, army beef, homemade biscuits, and other condensed foods, and rolled a barrel of flour before me on one of my last trips home. On the very last trip of all, I brought a bushel of shelled corn and two bushels of nuts for the Squirrels. 

For a few days there was silence in the branches, then the racket began once more and from that time on there were plenty of Squirrels. My affections, however, were principally engaged by the bright little lady Squirrel I had first seen and whom I named “Kitchi-Kitchi.” She was a beautiful creature, in her mahogany-coloured coat with its fine markings, her dancing eyes, and her magnificent tail. She had all the airs of a soubrette and continually played to the front row.

I soon identified many of the Squirrels and singled them out from among their fellows. One of the red Squirrels I named “Meeko,” because he was far from meek, and because it is an Indian word meaning “mischief-maker.” Another one, also a red Squirrel, was called “Bismarck.” These two were suitors for Kitchi-Kitchi’s hand. She had other admirers, of course, but the race soon narrowed down to these two.

It was Bismarck who greeted me one afternoon when I ran my canoe ashore near camp. He stood on his hind legs, on the sandy beach, barking and gesticulating furiously. When I landed, he went to a log nearby and ran the whole length of it three times, barking madly meanwhile, then back to me, then to the log again. It was not until he sat up on the log and beckoned to me with his right paw that I discovered what he meant. He was asking me, as plainly as any Squirrel could, to follow him.With every sense instantly alert, I did as he wished me to. He led me to a hole he had dug in the leaves and pointed to it, still barking. I bent over it and found a Toad, which had been bitten through the back and could not hop. I picked up the Toad and held him in my hand, 

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