The boys, wearied by chopping down the tree, rested from
their work, and sat down on the side of the condemned canoe to resume their
conversation. Suddenly Louis grasped Hector's arm, and pointed to a bark
canoe that appeared making for the westernmost point of the island. Hector
started to his feet, exclaiming, "It is Indiana returned!"
"Nonsense! Indiana!--it is no such thing. Look you, it is a stout man in a
blanket coat."
"The Indians?" asked Hector inquiringly.
"I do not think he looks like an Indian; but let us watch. What is he
doing?"
"Fishing. See now, he has just caught a fine bass--another--he has great
luck-now he is pushing the canoe ashore."
"That man does not move like an Indian--hark! he is whistling. I ought to
know that tune. It sounds like the old chanson my father used to sing;" and
Louis, raising his voice, began to sing the words of an old French Canadian
song, which we will give in the English as we heard it sung by an old
lumberer.
"Down by those banks where the pleasant waters flow,
Through the wild woods we'll wander, and we'll chase the buffalo.
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