“Well, ye’ll know it by observation, before long”, said Micah, with a slight twitch of one eye.  “Them’s ducks from Canada, a goin’ south’ard, as they allers do in the fall o’ the year.  They keep up that ere scoldin’ seound, day and night.  Cawcawee! cawcawee! kind of an aggravatin’ holler!  But I like it, ruther.  It allers ’minds me of a bustin’ good feller that was deown here from Canada once”.

“How remind you of him?” inquired John.

“Well, he cam’ deown on bissiniss, but he ran afowl o’ me, and we was eout in the woods together, consid’able.  He used to set eoutside the camp, bright, starlight nights, and sing songs, and sech.  He had a powerful, sweet v’ice, and it allers ’peared to me as ef every kind of a livin’ thing hushed up and listened, when he sung o’ nights.  He could reel off most anything you can think on.  There was one kind of a mournful ditty he sung, and once in a while he brung in a chorus,—­cawcawee! cawcawee,—­jest like what them ducks say, only, the way he made it seound, was soft and meller and doleful-like.  I liked to hear him sing that, only he was so solemn arter it, and would set and fetch up great long sythes.  And once I asked him what made him so sober and take on so, arter singin’ it.  He said, Micah, my good lad, when I war a young man, I had a little French wife, that could run like a hind and sing like a wild bird.  Well, she died.  The very last thing she sung, was, that ’ere song.  When I see how he felt, I never asked him another question.  He sot and sythed a spell and then got up, took a most oncommon swig of old Jamaky and turned into his blanket”.

Just as Micah ended this account, John caught sight of a large bird at a distance directly ahead of them, and his attention became entirely absorbed.  It took flight from a partly decayed tree on the northern bank, and commenced wheeling around, above the water.  The canoe was rapidly nearing this promising game.

Micah said not a word, but observed, in an apparently careless mood, the movements of his young companion.

Suddenly, the bird poised himself for an instant in the air, then closed his wings and shot downward.  A whizzing sound! then a plash, and he disappeared beneath the surface, throwing up the water into sparkling foam-wreaths.  He was absent but a moment, and then bore upward into the air a large fish.

John’s shot took him on the wing, and he dropped dead, his claws yet grasping the fish, on the water’s edge.

“Ruther harnsum than otherwise!” exclaimed Micah.  “You’ve got your dinner, Captin’”.

And he put the canoe rapidly towards the river-bank, to pick up the game.

They found it to be a large fish-hawk, with a good-sized salmon in its fierce embrace.  It was a noble specimen of the bird, tinted with brown, ashy white, and blue, with eyes of deep orange color.

“Well, that are a prize”, said Micah.  “Them birds ain’t common in these parts, bein’ as they mostly live on sea-coasts.  But this un was on his way seouth, and his journey has ended quite unexpected”.