And many pleasant days they passed during the sugar-making season.

They did not leave the sugar-bush for good till the commencement of April, when the sun and wind beginning to unlock the springs that fed the lake, and to act upon its surface, taught them that it would not long be prudent to remain on the island.

The loud booming sounds that were now frequently heard of the pent-up air beneath striving to break forth from its icy prison, were warnings not to be neglected.

Openings began to appear, especially at the entrance of the river, and between the islands, and opposite to some of the larger creeks; blue streams that attracted the water-fowl, ducks, and wild geese, that came, guided by that instinct that never errs, from their abiding-places in far-off lands; and Indiana knew the signs of the wild birds coming and going with a certainty that seemed almost marvellous to her simple-minded companions.
How delightful were the first indications of the coming spring! How joyously our young Crusoes heard the first tapping of the redheaded woodpecker, the low, sweet, warbling note of the early song-sparrow, and twittering chirp of the snow-bird, or that neat quakerly-looking bird, that comes to cheer us with the news of sunny days and green buds, the low, tender, whispering note of the chiccadee, flitting among the pines or in the thick branches of the shore-side trees! The chattering note of the little striped chitmunk, as it pursued its fellows over the fallen trees, and the hollow sound of the male partridge heavily striking his wings against his sides to attract the notice of the female birds--were among the early spring melodies, for such they seemed to our forest dwellers, and for such they listened with eager ears, for they told them-- "That winter, cold winter, was past, And that spring, lovely spring, was approaching at last." They watched for the first song of the robin, _[FN: Turdus miyratorius, or American robin.]_ and the full melody of the red thrush _[FN: Turdus melodus, or wood-thrush.]_; the rushing sound of the passenger-pigeon, as flocks of these birds darted above their heads, sometimes pausing to rest on the dry limb of some withered oak, or darting down to feed upon the scarlet berries of the spicy winter-green, the acorns that still lay upon the now uncovered ground, or the berries of hawthorn and dogwood that still hung on the bare bushes.

The pines were now putting on their rich, mossy, green spring dresses; the skies were deep blue; nature, weary of her long state of inaction, seemed waking into life and light.
On the Plains the snow soon disappears, for the sun and air has access to the earth much easier than in the close, dense forest; and Hector and Louis were soon able to move about with axe in hand, to cut the logs for the addition to the house which they proposed making.