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not greatly excited； disdaining to climb； and taking little
notice of the dog； except to curl his nose and utter a hissing
kind of snarl when the latter came too near。
But the arrival of the hunters gave a new colour to the picture。
The panther raised his head； then sprang up a large tree and
ensconced himself on a fork； while the valorous Skookum reared
against the trunk； threatening loudly to come up and tear him to
pieces。
This was a rare find and a noble chance to conserve their stock
of deer； so the hunters went around the tree seeking for a fair
shot。 But every point of view had some serious obstacle。 It
seemed as though the branches had been told off to guard the
panther's vitals； for a big one always stood in the bullet's way。
After vainly going around； Quonab said to Rolf： 〃Hit him with
something； so he'll move。〃
Rolf always was a good shot with stones； but he found none to
throw。 Near where they stood； however； was an unfreezing spring；
and the soggy snow on it was easily packed into a hard； heavy
snowball。 Rolf threw it straight； swift； and by good luck it hit
the panther square on the nose and startled him so that he sprang
right out of the tree and flopped into the snow。
Skookum was on him at once； but got a slap on the ear that
changed his music； and the panther bounded away out of sight with
the valiant Skookum ten feet behind； whooping and yelling like
mad。
It was annoyance rather than fear that made that panther take to
a low tree while Skookum boxed the compass； and made a beaten dog
path all around him。 The hunters approached very carefully now；
making little sound and keeping out of sight。 The panther was
wholly engrossed with observing the astonishing impudence of that
dog； when Quonab came quietly up； leaned his rifle against a tree
and fired。 The smoke cleared to show the panther on his back；
his legs convulsively waving in the air； and Skookum tugging
valiantly at his tail。
〃My panther；〃 he seemed to say； 〃whatever would you do without me？〃
A panther in a deer yard is much like a wolf shut up in a
sheepfold。 He would probably have killed all the deer that
winter； though there were ten times as many as he needed for
food； and getting rid of him was a piece of good luck for hunters
and deer； while his superb hide made a noble trophy that in years
to come had unexpected places of honour。
Chapter 43。 Sunday in the Woods
Rolf still kept to the tradition of Sunday； and Quonab had in a
manner accepted it。 It was a curious fact that the red man had
far more toleration for the white man's religious ideas than the
white man had for the red's。
Quonab's songs to the sun and the spirit； or his burning of a
tobacco pinch； or an animal's whiskers were to Rolf but harmless
nonsense。 Had he given them other names； calling them hymns and
incense； he would have been much nearer respecting them。 He had
forgotten his mother's teaching： 〃If any man do anything
sincerely； believing that thereby he is worshipping God； he is
worshipping God。〃 He disliked seeing Quonab use an axe or a gun
on Sunday； and the Indian； realizing that such action made 〃evil
medicine〃 for Rolf； practically abstained。 But Rolf had not yet
learned to respect the red yarns the Indian hung from a deer's
skull； though he did come to understand that he must let them
alone or produce bad feeling in camp。
Sunday had become a day of rest and Quonab made it also a day of
song and remembrance。
They were sitting one Sunday night by the fire in the cabin；
enjoying the blaze； while a storm rattled on the window and door。
A white…footed mouse； one of a family that lived in the shanty；
was trying how close he could come to Skookum's nose without
being caught； while Rolf looked on。 Quonab was lying back on a
pile of deer skins； with his pipe in his mouth； his head on the
bunk； and his hands clasped back of his neck。
There was an atmosphere of content and brotherly feeling； the
evening was young； when Rolf broke silence：
〃Were you ever married； Quonab？〃
〃Ugh；〃 was the Indian's affirmative。
〃Where？〃
〃Myanos。〃
Rolf did not venture more questions； but left the influence of
the hour to work。 It was a moment of delicate poise； and Rolf
knew a touch would open the door or double bar it。 He wondered
how he might give that touch as he wished it。 Skookum still
slept。 Both men watched the mouse； as； with quick movements it
crept about。 Presently it approached a long birch stick that
stood up against the wall。 High hanging was the song…drum。 Rolf
wished Quonab would take it and let it open his heart； but he
dared not offer it； that might have the exact wrong effect。 Now
the mouse was behind the birch stick。 Then Rolf noticed that the
stick if it were to fall would strike a drying line； one end of
which was on the song…drum peg。 So he made a dash at the mouse
and displaced the stick； the jerk it gave the line sent the
song…drum with hollow bumping to the ground。 The boy stooped to
replace it； as he did； Quonab grunted and Rolf turned to see his
hand stretched for the drum。 Had Rolf officiously offered it； it
would have been refused； now the Indian took it； tapped and
warmed it at the fire； and sang a song of the Wabanaki。 It was
softly done； and very low； but Rolf was close； for almost the
first time in any long rendition； and he got an entirely new
notion of the red music。 The singer's face brightened as he
tummed and sang with peculiar grace notes and throat warbles of
〃Kaluscap's war with the magi；〃 and the spirit of his people；
rising to the sweet magic of melody； came shining in his eyes。
He sang the lovers' song； 〃The Bark Canoe。〃 （See F。 R。 Burton's
〃American Primitive Music。）
〃While the stars shine and falls the dew； I seek my love in bark canoe。〃
And then the cradle song；
〃The Naked Bear Shall Never Catch Thee。〃
When he stopped； he stared at the fire； and after a long pause
Rolf ventured； 〃My mother would have loved your songs。〃
Whether he heard or not； the warm emanation surely reached the
Indian； and he began to answer the question of an hour before：
〃Her name was Gamowini； for she sang like the sweet night bird at
Asamuk。 I brought her from her father's house at Saugatuck。 We
lived at Myanos。 She made beautiful baskets and moccasins。 I
fished and trapped； we had enough。 Then the baby came。 He had
big round eyes； so we called him Wee…wees； 'our little owl；' and
we were very happy。 When Gamowini sang to her baby； the world
seemed full of sun。 One day when Wee…wees could walk she left
him with me and she went to Stamford with some baskets to sell。
A big ship was in the harbour。 A man from the ship told her that
his sailors would buy all her baskets。 She had no fear。 On the
ship they seized her for a runaway slave； and hid her till they
sailed away。
〃When she did not come bac