All men call me Whiskey Jack; I don’t have to tote a pack; Beady eye and slender tail, I can spy out any trail, Old bull moose and caribou wink and blink as I fly through, Yelling, crying, “Chank! chank! chank!”— Trappers call me “awful crank!” I don’t have to hunt for foodstuffs—no! I fly right into camp, Seize a piece of bread and butter, grab a muffin—then decamp, Ha! the trappers try to hit me! Ho! they throw their spoons and knives, But I dodge them by and chuckle, they can’t hit me for their lives. So, I’m called old Whiskey Jack, nice old Whiskey,—gray and black. I was here in Indian days, know their customs, know their ways, I was here when Marquette came, saw Quebec when it began, Saw the hemlock forests falling, lowered by the hand of man. Yes, I’ve seen some doings surely, seen the redskins on Champlain, Seen them fight on land and water, seen the bodies of the slain, Seen the waves of Lake George glisten, heard the yells on Richelieu, Heard the scalp dance, seen the torture, viewed the crackling flames,—“A-hoo!” Yes, I’m just old Whiskey Jack, plain old blue jay, gray and black, Canadians know me, for I bring news of game and coming Spring, What’s a woodland camp without me? what’s a fire without my call? True, I’m just a plain old ranger, but—Egad—I’m loved by all! HENRY HUDSON: DISCOVERER OF HUDSON BAY AND EXPLORER OF THE MAGNIFICENT RIVER WHICH BEARS HIS NAME (15??-1611) “_Oh! See there, redskinned brother, where the winding river parts,_ _Where the shadows glance and glisten, where the silvery salmon darts._ _See that hulk approaching,—floating without a sound,_ _With white clouds riding up above and sides so dark and round._ _Come! Let us paddle to it. Ha! See the pale-skinned men;_ _They beckon, smiling on us. They must be friendly, then._” HENRY HUDSON: DISCOVERER OF HUDSON BAY AND EXPLORER OF THE MAGNIFICENT RIVER WHICH BEARS HIS NAME (15??-1611) WE had been plowing along over the great Atlantic on a clear and starlit night. The _Mauretania_ was as steady as a pier in the East River, so we were expecting no disaster, yet, when we tumbled from our cots upon the day following, we were startled to see that the great, steel hulk had ceased to move with her accustomed vigor. The resounding _poom, poom_, of her giant propeller-shaft was no longer heard, and she was only just drifting along through the gray-green waters. Every now and again her massive fog-whistle would roar out its leonine warning: “O-o-o-o-o-m! O-o-o-o-o-m!”