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First there is a layer of wood, and then one of mud and stones; and so they work on till a sufficient height is gained, when the roof, of rough branches, is placed on the top, and plastered down with mud and stones. Such was the interesting account which Quambo gave us as we walked along.
Mike, indeed, was a great acquisition to our party; for, besides singing a good Irish song, he had learned to play the fiddle, and, of course, he had brought his "Cremona," of which he was justly proud, along with him. He beguiled the long winter evenings with many a merry tune, and not unfrequently set old Quambo dancing.
Calling to Mike and Quambo, we put on our coats and sallied forth, armed with guns and sticks. The moon was shining brightly, so we required no torches. We made our way over the fallen trunks and rough rocks which formed the bank of the river, but after a while the howls appeared to come from a still greater distance than before. Uncle Mark now called a halt.
Quambo on hearing the sounds started up, snapping his fingers, kicking up his legs, and whirling round and round in time to the tune. The Indian, grave as was his exterior, forthwith joined him, out-vying him in his leaps, and adding the wildest shrieks and shouts.
Accordingly, at the time appointed, the day's work being over, Mike and Quambo made their appearance at the hut; while running at their heels were their two dogs, who were soon warmly greeted by Pop. Setting out, we took our way along the banks of the river, near which we fully expected to fall in with several raccoons.
We would kick up de heels all night long, to make up for lost time." It was some days after this that we one evening saw an Indian coming through the opening which had now been made down to the river, walking on snow-shoes, and with a package of some size on his back. "Here comes Kakaik! I wonder what him bring!" exclaimed Quambo, running forward to meet our visitor.
"You, Roger, shoot the one to the left. I will aim at the next. Mike and Quambo, you take two others. Unless they run off, we may give a good account of the whole pack." As he finished speaking I fired, followed by Uncle Mark and the other men; and, as the result, four wolves rolled over dead.
"Would you loike to be afther looking for a 'coon to-night, Masther Roger?" he asked. "Quambo says he can come; and Yelp and Snap are moighty ager for the sport." I at once agreed to meet my two friends, accompanied by my dog Pop.
He had made a mistake, however, for the dogs bayed loudly and continued their course. "Dat a mighty old 'coon," cried Quambo. "He know what he about." The raccoon, if it had got up the tree, had come down again, and was still ahead.
This stirred up Bruin's anger to a pitch of fury, and, with a growl like thunder, he dashed forward at his opponent. Mike, however, nimbly skipped on one side, and the bear's eye fell on Quambo, who had lifted his rifle to fire. But scarcely had he pulled the trigger when the bear was upon him, and both rolled over together.
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