Adam the Hunter 321 



it were a loon wedding — for loons are faithful wed- 

 ded pairs — or whether it were a "social function" 

 of the best aristocratic society of loondom, it was 

 not given us to know. 



As the sun sank down behind the encompassing 

 forests of that solitary and charming gem, a jewel 

 of aqueous pearl set in green for the pleasure of 

 God and his angels, the frail boat moved swiftly in 

 a straight line, leaving an arrow-shaped trail of 

 shimmering ripples in its wake. The sky seemed 

 so clear that we did not encumber ourselves with 

 rain-coats; but when a mile out, a sweeping shower 

 soaked us thoroughly. Three or four strokes 

 brought us to a landing in the universal forest, and 

 a quick fire set our garments to steaming. As we 

 passed down, a young buck raised his graceful head 

 from the reeds where he was feeding, gazed at us 

 a moment, and then with a few swift bounds dis- 

 appeared in his covert. At our landing-place we 

 could see how these denizens of the wilds are pro- 

 vided for. The rain was sufficient, one would have 

 supposed, to have saturated the ground, and yet 

 beneath the overarching pines, whose shelter we 

 sought, the thick carpet of leaves was perfectly dry. 

 In winter, with the added clothing of snow on the 

 branches, this little nook would be as comfortable 

 as the best barn, and very much pleasanter. When 

 we set out on our return, the Chippewa wanted us 

 to have a view of his cattle — the dependence for 



