62 LETTERS FROM THE BACKWOODS. 



ing his gun. He said the loon just raised his head 

 above water, opposite where he stood, but he missed 

 him, an^ the frightened bird did not appear again 

 till it rose far out in the lake. 



I mention this circumstance merely to show the 

 habits of this, to me, most singular bird of our north- 

 ern waters. I forgot to say that, although it cannot 

 rise from the water except with great difficulty, and 

 never attempts to escape danger, neither can it walk 

 on the shore. Diving is about the only gift it pos- 

 sesses, which it uses, I must say, with great ability 

 and success. 



Paddling up Rackett River, we at length came to 

 Buttermilk Falls, around which we were compelled to 

 carry our canoes. So in another place we were com- 

 pelled to carry them two miles, around rapids, 

 through the woods. Nothing can be more comical 

 and out of the way than a party thus passing through 

 the forest. First, a yoke is placed across the guide's 

 neck, on which the boat is placed bottom side up, 

 covering the poor fellow down to the shoulders, and 

 sticking out fore and aft over the biped below in such 

 a way as to make him appear half-human, half-supei;- 

 natural, or rather un-natuYixl. But it was no joke 

 to me to carry my part of the freight. Two rifles, 

 one overcoat, one tea-pot, one lantern, one basin, 

 and a piece of pork, were my portion. Sometimes 

 I had a change, namely, two oars and a paddle, 

 balanced by a tin pail, in place of a rifle. Thus 

 equipped, I would press on for a while, and then stop 

 to see the procession — each poor fellow staggering 



