"Where?"
"Myanos."
Rolf did not venture more questions, but left the influence of
the hour to work. It was a moment of delicate poise, and Rolf
knew a touch would open the door or double bar it. He wondered
how he might give that touch as he wished it. Skookum still
slept. Both men watched the mouse, as, with quick movements it
crept about. Presently it approached a long birch stick that
stood up against the wall. High hanging was the song-drum. Rolf
wished Quonab would take it and let it open his heart, but he
dared not offer it; that might have the exact wrong effect. Now
the mouse was behind the birch stick. Then Rolf noticed that the
stick if it were to fall would strike a drying line, one end of
which was on the song-drum peg. So he made a dash at the mouse
and displaced the stick; the jerk it gave the line sent the
song-drum with hollow bumping to the ground. The boy stooped to
replace it; as he did, Quonab grunted and Rolf turned to see his
hand stretched for the drum. Had Rolf officiously offered it, it
would have been refused; now the Indian took it, tapped and
warmed it at the fire, and sang a song of the Wabanaki.
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