The Look. 213 



WKere they breed, I don't know, but one thing I'm 

 certain of, they don't breed in these waters. You may 

 come out here, airly in the season, and you won't see 

 a loon in all the lakes. When the weather gets warm, 

 you'd be woke up in the morning by their clear, loud, 

 ringing voice, and you'll see may be two or three, off 

 in different directions on the water. You may stay 

 all summer and you'll see them there, and always 

 apart, and you won't see any others. Along in the 

 fall you see them as usual on the lake before you go 

 to your shanty at night, and when you get up in the 

 mornin', they're all gone, and that's all you'll know 

 about 'em, if you stay among these lakes studyin' 

 their ways a dozen years. And when they go, you 

 had better go too, or make up your mind to be out in 

 the woods in an ugly storm, for in a day or two it'll 

 surely come. This much I've learned, and when they 

 start, I always start too. 



" There's another queer water-fowl, that little dip- 

 per as we call him, sittin' out there like a cork on the 

 water. He, too, is always alone, and don't build his 

 nest in these parts, as I could ever discover. We 

 used to have a deal of fun with them chaps when we 

 had flint locks, before the percussion caps came into 



