"I have it; 'tis nigh sundown an' I reckon they hope to shoot something fer supper," saying which he began to sing in a rollicking voice the following, which may be presumed to be of his own composition: "Swate Widdy Hogan's married rich Flannagan To provide for Hogan's heirs; All tin twins o' thim great at shenannegan, An all o' thim born i' pairs. "Pat an' Terry, Tom an' Tim, Peter, Mary Ann, Dinnis, Nora, Shaughn an' Fin, Wid Kathleen an' Dan," "Never mind the rest o' the family, Ferguson, come ashore an' help with the work." "Help wi' the work, is it, Joseph, me boy? Joseph wore a coat o' many colours, ye know, but he was the same old Joe all the time. You'll niver improve, I'm thinkin'." Rodney was left to build a fire and told to keep his eye "peeled," for a prowling savage might happen along any minute. When he had a good blaze started, he sat down to wait. After a few minutes, hearing nothing, he decided to take his rifle and go up the creek a short distance in the hope of seeing game. That those returning and finding him gone need not be alarmed, he cut a piece of bark from a young tree and with the point of his knife wrote on the inside: "Up creek, back soon." The boy had not gone far when he came upon a path made by animals passing to and from the creek. He noticed no fresh tracks but concluded this as good a place as any where one might lie in wait for a sight of game. He selected the trunk of a fallen tree which commanded a view of the path and where he would be screened from the observation of any animal passing. It was near sunset and the rosy light shone through thin places in the foliage overhead. Not a sound could be heard save the murmur of the water in the creek. Rodney had paddled all day and was tired. He began to feel drowsy. That would not do and he shook his head vigorously, resolving to keep awake. He was fond of hunting and thought it would be very gratifying if he might return to the fire with something to show for his efforts. Back in the woods a fine buck came walking along the narrow path. When fully six rods from the creek he suddenly stopped, and lifting his delicate muzzle snuffed the air inquiringly. The next instant his tail was lifted, showing the white of the under side, the "white flag," as the hunters term it, and with a bound he was off in the forest. A few minutes later a dark form cautiously came along, careful not to break a twig beneath his moccasined feet. He was naked except for a breech-clout. The tuft of feathers fastened to his "top-knot" and the paint on his face indicated that he was on the warpath. Turning, the Indian followed the narrow trail in the direction of the creek for a short distance and then, leaving the path, made a detour on the side where Rodney had taken his station.