270 MISCELLANEOUS. 



course of preparation, a loon made its appearance on the lake 

 a short distance from camp. I asked Leroy if he would go 

 with me and give the loon a chase. With his usual vim he 

 answered " You bet." The other boys laughed at us, said we 

 were "loony," that we could never kill him in the world, 

 etc.; but I had hunted loons before, and knew that they were 

 mistaken. 



I took my little Stevens pocket rifle (which I always cairy 

 with me when fishing), Leroy took the oars, and we pulled out 

 toward the loon. When we got within about fifty yards of 

 him, he dove. We pulled in the direction he took, and when 

 he rose I fired at him. He went down again, and when he 

 reappeared I shot at him again; the bullets in each case 

 cutting very close to his neck. The third time he came up 

 he was not more than forty yards from us. I drew another 

 Dead on him, and by a lucky shot killed him the bullet pass- 

 ing through his neck about an inch below the occipital joint. 

 We returned to camp with our prize, and received the hearty 

 congratulations of our friends on our success. The bird was 

 one of the finest specimens I have ever seen, the plumage 

 being unusually full and beautiful. I brought the skin home, 

 and have had it mounted. 



Breakfast over, we donned our rubber suits and pulled out 

 up the lake. The rain still fell in torrents, accompanied by 

 a cold wind. Our friends told us the fish would not bite in 

 such weather ; and when we had rowed three miles without 

 getting a strike, we began to think their predictions would 

 prove true, and that we should have to return to camp with 

 "fisherman's luck." 



But we kept our courage up, by hoping that it would clear 

 up later in the day, and that we should yet have some good 

 sport. Finally, as we passed the island, our two boats not 

 more than twenty yards apart, my oarsman said : 



