The atmosphere felt highly charged--unpleasantly so for the other two boys. But at that critical moment an extraordinary sound of other singing--human singing--was borne to them in faint merriment upon the woodland breeze, so primitive, so unlike anything modern, that it might have been Robin Hood himself or one of his green-coated Merry Men singing a roundelay in the woods to the accompaniment of a woodchopper's axe. "Rond! Rond! Rond! peti' pie pon' ton'! Rond! rond! rond! peti' pie pon' ton'!" "_What is it?_ Who is--it?" Nixon's stiffening fists unclosed. His eye was bright with bewilderment. "Houp-la! it's Toiney--Toiney Leduc." Colin broke into an exultant whoop. "Now we'll have fun! Toiney is a funny one, for sure!" "He's more fun than a circus," corroborated Coombsie. "We're coming to a little farm-clearing in the woods now, Nix," he explained, falling in by his cousin's side as the four boys moved hastily ahead, challenges forgotten. "There's a house on it, the last for miles. It's owned by a man called Greer, and Toiney Leduc works for him during the summer an' fall. Toiney is a French-Canadian who came here about a year ago; his brother is employed in one of the shipbuilding yards on the river." The merry, oft-repeated strain came to them more distinctly now, rolling among the trees:-- "Rond, rond, rond, peti' pie pon' ton'! C'éta't une bonne femme, Qui garda't sex moutons, Rond', rond', rond, peti' pie pon' ton'!" "He's singing about the woman who was taking care of her sheep and how the lamb got his chin in the milk! He translated it for me," said Colin. "'Translate!' He doesn't know enough English to say 'Boo!' straight," threw back Leon, as he gained the edge of the clearing. "It is Toiney!" he cried exultingly. "Toiney--and the _Hare_!" "The--what? My word! there are surprises enough in these woods--what with forest paintpots--and the rest." Nixon, as he spoke, was bounding out into the open too, thrilled by expectation: a musical woodchopper attended by a tame rodent would certainly be a unique item upon the forest playbill which promised a variety of attractions already. But he saw no skipping hare upon the green patch of clearing--nothing but a boy of twelve whose full forehead and pointed face was very slightly rodent-like in shape, but whose eyes, which at this startled moment showed little save their whites, were as shy and frightened as a rabbit's, while he shrank close to Toiney's side. "My brother says that whenever he sees that boy he feels like offering him a bunch of clover or a lettuce leaf!" laughed Leon, repeating the thoughtless speech of an adult. He stooped suddenly, picked some of the shaded clover leaves and a pink blossom: "Eh! want some clover, 'Hare'?" he asked teasingly, thrusting the green stuff close to the face of the abnormally frightened boy.