High in the upper air the hollow booming of the night-hawk was heard at intervals, and the wild cry of the night-owl from a dead branch, shouting to its fellow, woke the silence of that lonely river scene.
The old trapper stretched before the crackling fire, smoked his pipe or hummed some French voyageur's song.

Beneath the shelter of the canoe soundly slept the two girls; the dark cheek of the Indian girl pillowed on the arm of her fairer companion, her thick tresses of raven hair mingling with the silken ringlets of the white maiden.

They were a lovely pair--one fair as morning, the other dark as night.
How lightly did they spring from their low bed, wakened by the early song of the forest birds! The light curling mist hung in fleecy volumes upon the river, like a flock of sheep at rest--the tinkling sound of the heavy dew-drops fell in mimic showers upon the stream.

See that red squirrel, how lightly he runs along that fallen trunk--how furtively he glances with his sharp bright eye at the intruders on his sylvan haunts! Hark! there is a rustling among the leaves--what strange creature works its way to the shore?
A mud turtle--it turns, and now is trotting along the little sandy ridge to some sunny spot, where, half buried, it may lie unseen near the edge of the river.

See that musk-rat, how boldly he plunges into the stream, and, with his oarlike tail, stems the current till he gains in safety the sedges on the other side.
What gurgling sound is that ?--it attracts the practised ear of the old hunter.