Soon his little gray mate appeared under the last bush, and after much circumspection came hopping towards the breakfast; and after her, in a long line, five little Killooleets, hopping, fluttering, cheeping, stumbling,—­all in a fright at the big world, but all in a desperate hurry for crackers and porridge ad libitum; now casting hungry eyes at the plate under the old cedar, now stopping to turn their heads sidewise to see the big kind animal with only two legs, that Killooleet had told them about, no doubt, many times.

After that we had often seven guests to breakfast, instead of two.  It was good to hear them, the lively tink, tink-a-tink of their little bills on the tin plate in a merry tattoo, as I ate my own tea and trout thankfully.  I had only to raise my eyes to see them in a bobbing brown ring about my bounty; and, just beyond them, the lap of ripples on the beach, the lake glinting far away in the sunshine, and a bark canoe fretting at the landing, swinging, veering, nodding at the ripples, and beckoning me to come away as soon as I had finished my breakfast.

Before the little Killooleets had grown accustomed to things, however, occurred the most delicious bit of our summer camping.  It was only a day or two after their first appearance; they knew simply that crumbs and a welcome awaited them at my camp, but had not yet learned that the tin plate in the cedar roots was their special portion.  Simmo had gone off at daylight, looking up beaver signs for his fall trapping.  I had just returned from the morning fishing, and was getting breakfast, when I saw an otter come out into the lake from a cold brook over on the east shore.  Grabbing a handful of figs, and some pilot bread from the cracker box, I paddled away after the otter; for that is an animal which one has small chance to watch nowadays.  Besides, I had found a den over near the brook, and I wanted to find out, if possible, how a mother otter teaches her young to swim.  For, though otters live much in the water and love it, the young ones are afraid of it as so many kittens.  So the mother—­

But I must tell about that elsewhere.  I did not find out that day; for the young were already good swimmers.  I watched the den two or three hours from a good hiding place, and got several glimpses of the mother and the little ones.  On the way back I ran into a little bay where a mother shelldrake was teaching her brood to dive and catch trout.  There was also a big frog there that always sat in the same place, and that I used to watch.  Then I thought of a trap, two miles away, which Simmo had set, and went to see if Nemox, the cunning fisher, who destroys the sable traps in winter, had been caught at his own game.  So it was afternoon, and I was hungry, when I paddled back to camp.  It occurred to me suddenly that Killooleet might be hungry too; for I had neglected to feed him.  He had grown sleek and comfortable of late, and never went insect hunting when he could get cold fried trout and corn bread.