Our weary voyageurs resolved to remain among the rocks for that night at least; and with this intent they put up their little tent. They did not kindle any fire, as the willows were scarce, and there would be barely enough to make one or two more boilings of the rocktripe. They spread their skins within the tent, and creeping in, kept one another as warm as they could until morning.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE POLAR HARE AND GREAT SNOWY OWL.

Of course hunger kept them from sleeping late. They were up and out of the tent by an early hour. Their fire was rekindled, and they were making preparations for a fresh pot of rock-tripe, when they were startled by the note of a well-known bird. On looking up, they beheld seated upon the point of a rock the creature itself, which was the "cinereous crow," (Garrulus Canadensis), or, as it is better known, the “whiskey Jack." The latter name it receives from the voyageurs, on account of the resemblance of its Indian appellation," whiskae-shaw-neesh" to the words "whiskey John." Although sometimes called the "cinereous crow," the bird is a true jay. It is one of the most inelegant of the genus, being of a dull gray color, and not particularly graceful in its form. Its plumage, moreover, does not consist of webbed feathers, but rather more resembles hair; nor does its voice make up for the plainness of its appearance, as is the case with some birds. On the contrary, the voice of "whiskey Jack" is plaintive and squeaking, though he is something of a mocker in his way, and frequently imitates the notes of other birds. He is one of those creatures that frequent the habitations of man, and there is not a fur post, or fort, in all the Hudson's Bay

territory, where "whiskey Jack" is not familiarly known. He is far from being a favorite, however, as, like his near relative the magpie, he is a great thief, and will follow the marten-trapper all day while baiting his traps, perching upon a tree until the bait is set, and then pouncing down, and carrying it off. He frequently pilfers small articles from the forts and encampments, and is so bold as to enter the tents, and seize food out of any vessel that may contain it. Notwithstanding all this, he is a favorite with the traveller through these inhospitable regions. No matter how barren the spot where the voyageur may make his camp, his tent will hardly be pitched, before he receives a visit from "whiskey Jack," who comes, of course, to pick up any crumbs that may fall. His company, therefore, in a region where all other wild creatures shun the society of man, endears him to the lonely traveller.

At many of their camps our voyageurs had met with this singular bird, and were always glad to receive him as a friend. They were now doubly delighted to see him, but this delight arose from no friendly feelings. Their guest was at once doomed to die. François had taken up his, gun, and in the next moment would have brought him down, had he not been checked by Norman. Not that Norman intended to plead for his life, but Norman's eye had caught sight of another "whiskey Jack,” — which was hopping among the rocks at some distance- and fearing that François' shot might frighten it away, had hindered him from firing. It was Norman's design to get both.

The second "whiskey Jack," or, perhaps, it was the whiskey "Jill," soon drew near; and both were now seen to hop from rock to rock, and then upon the top of the tent, and one of them actually settled upon the edge of the pot, as it hung over the fire, and quietly looking into it, appeared to scrutinize its contents!

The boys could not think of any way of getting the birds, except by François' gun; and it was at length agreed that François should do his best. He was sure of one of them, at least; so telling the others to get behind him, he fired at the more distant one where it sat upon the tent, and took the other on the wing.

The two jays fell, and soft, silky, hair-like

Both shots were successful. were soon divested of their plumage, and dropped into the boiling pot. They did not weigh together more than about six or seven ounces; but even that was accounted something under present circumstances; and, with the tripe de roche, a much better breakfast was made than they had anticipated.

- not

No more of the lichen could be found. The rocks were all searched, but only a few patches enough for another full meal - could be obtained. The travellers had no other resource, therefore, but to continue on, and passing through the rocky ground, they once more embarked upon the wilderness of

snow.

During that whole day not a living creature gladdened their eyes. They saw nothing that was eatable fish, flesh, fowl, or vegetable. Not even a bit

not even a rock

in a plain, where not a tree stood to shelter them.

Next morning a consultation was held. Marengo was again the subject of their thoughts and conversation. Should they kill him on the spot or go a little farther? That was the question. Lucien, as before, interposed in his favor. There was a high hill many miles off, and in their proper course. "Let us first reach yonder hill," proposed Lucien. If nothing is found before that, then we must part with Marengo." The proposal was agreed to, and, striking their tent, they again set out.

It was a toilsome long way to that hill- - feeble and weary as they all were but they reached it without having observed the slightest trace of animal life.

"Up the hill!" cried Lucien, beckoning to the others, and cheering them with his weak voice, "Up the hill! ”

On they went, up the steep declivity- Marengo toiling on after them. The dog looked downcast and despairing. He really appeared to know the conditions that had been made for his life. His masters, as they crept upward, looked sharply before them. Every tuft that appeared above the snow was scrutinized, and every inch of the ground, as it came into view, was examined.

At length they crossed the escarpment of the hill, and stood upon the summit. They gazed forward with disappointed feelings. The hill-top was a sort