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12 My Pottawatomie friend rejoiced in the euphonous patronymic of To-ti-ka-sa-man signifying "the Man who holds his face to the thunder" and was the son of a Chief. he had even distinguished himself during the Canadian Rebellion, having on one occasion brought in prisoner four Sympathisers whom he had taken crossing the St Clair River in a canoe, with dispatches to one of the (so called) Patriot leaders. For his deed he had received a rifle which he greatly prized on this account, but which was now a most dilapadated affair, the lock being tied on by a thong of buckskin, and the stock broken in many places --
Four hunters of his nation joined us one evening, having come upon our camp during their hunting -- I spared them some powder & lead, which they were quite out of -- and they departed in great spirits, taking my friend with them.
During my solitary sojourn in the woods, I had a daily visitor in the person of a little tomtit which every morning on the first appearance of dawn, awakened me with its lively twit twit. Whilst venison or other meat was hanging outside the shanty, it fared sumptuously enough, and I constantly on turning out of a morning, saw it perched on a leg of venison or the carcase of a raccoon. When, however, the meat was brought into the wigwam to dry in the smoke, the little fellow became bolder and on my return from hunting, I invariably found it pecking away at something or another inside --
It gradually grew tamer and at last, when I raised the deer skin in the morning, would at once hop into the shanty, and sit by my side whilst I was eating my breakfast, and willingly take pieces of meat out of my hand. The shrill twit twit invariably served as a reveillee to me in the morning -- and if by chance I awoke earlier than usual, I always waited for my little friend, knowing that until he made his appearance, it was still dark.
On the return of the Indians, it still flew in and out, although there was scarcely an inch of standing room to spare, and would sit on my legs, which were stretched before the fire, waiting patiently for its share of the meal. When one morning after many weeks sojourn in the wild & solitary spot I turned out of the shanty for the last time, my poor little companion was perched on the scull of a bear which was lying before the door, waiting for the signal to enter, and when the deer skin was removed from the door and he hopped in as usual, he appeared to know that we were about to desert him, & perching on the sill, uttered a very mournful twittering. I felt quite sorry to leave the old camp and the sociable little tit, but threw a large piece of meat into the shanty, which would last him til the snow disappeared, & bid both farewell.