excepting only the tree-dwellers on the Orinoco.

Some of the chips were fastened together with strands of wild-grape vine, and were heavily laden with nuts and corn. Others were passenger boats and sailed proudly alone. The young ones were put on the chips before they were launched, and screamed in terror as the little craft slid into the current.

The commissary fleet, in charge of an old grey Squirrel, who was perfectly calm, was launched first, then the chips bearing the small fry. The passenger boats were last to go, and the travellers swam out into the stream to catch them. One grey Squirrel missed his boat entirely and was drowned. It came ashore four miles farther down and I still have it among my most-prized possessions.

As long as I live, I shall never forget that sight. The day was glorious, with never a hint of frost in the air, and the woods, strangely silent, now that the Little People were gone, echoed and re-echoed when a nut dropped on the fallen leaves.
Down the stream sailed the Squirrel fleet—brave little mariners, these, with tails proudly spread to catch each favouring wind. Bismarck did a wonder of navigation, tacking repeatedly and coming up beside Kitchi-Kitchi under full sail. Meeko was stationed at her other side and his boat went at exactly the same speed as hers. Close together, as married lovers down the stream of life, the three sailed, with the family of young ones on a large chip just ahead, where the anxious mother could keep an eye upon them.

I stood watching for over an hour. The current was swift and bore them away all too soon, but with my powerful field-glass I kept them in sight until the tears blinded me and I had to wipe my eyes.

The only way to make an animal’s story untragic is to finish before you reach the end, so I shall leave them here—that little company of fur-clad, bright-eyed captains, making the long journey southward before the frost should come. Far down the stream was a bend, where the fleet turned, and even with the field-glass I could not see around a corner, so with one last lingering look and a deep sigh, I gave it up.

But a glimmer caught my eye, and, trembling with excitement, I raised my glass once more, fixing it upon the bend of the river, where the last boat was just rounding the curve.

Was it fancy, or did Kitchi-Kitchi stand up, wave her hand at me, and across the boundless waste of waters that lay between us, send me a parting smile?

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