Hark, if he is not singing now! aye, and the very chorus of the old song,"-- and Louis raised his voice to its highest pitch as he repeated, "Through the wild woods well wander, And well chase the buffalo-- And we'll chase the buffalo." "What a pity I have forgotten the rest of that dear old song.

I used to listen with open ears to it when I was a boy.

I never thought to hear it again, and to hear it here of all places in the world!" "Come, let us go on with our work," said Hector, with something like impatience in his voice; and the strokes of his axe fell once more in regular succession on the log; but Louis's eye was still on the mysterious fisher, whom he could discern lounging on the grass and smoking his pipe.

"I do not think he sees or hears us," said Louis to himself, "but I think I'll manage to bring him over soon"-- and he set himself busily to work to scrape up the loose chips and shavings, and soon began to strike fire with his knife and flint.
"What are you about, Louis ?" asked Hector.

"Lighting a fire." "It is warm enough without a fire, I am sure." "I know that, but I want to attract the notice of yonder tiresome fisherman." "And perhaps bring a swarm of savages down upon us, who may be lurking in the bushes of the island." "Pooh, pooh! Hec.:--there are no savages.