212 AN AMERICAN HUNTER 



ily alongshore, the glare of the lantern bringing out for 

 one moment every detail of the forest growth on the 

 banks, which the next second vanished into absolute 

 blackness. Several times we saw muskrats swimming 

 across the lane of light cut by the lantern through the 

 darkness, and two or three times their sudden plunging 

 and splashing caused my heart to leap. Once when we 

 crossed the lake we came upon a loon floating buoyantly 

 right out in the middle of it. It stayed until we were 

 within ten yards, so that I could see the minute outlines 

 of the feathers and every movement of the eye. Then 

 it swam off, but made no cry. At last, while crossing 

 the mouth of a bay we heard a splashing sound among 

 the lilies inshore, which even my untrained ears recog- 

 nized as different from any of the other noises we had 

 yet heard, and a jarring motion of the paddle showed 

 that the paddler wished me to be on the alert. With- 

 out any warning, the course of the boat was suddenly 

 changed, and I was aware that we were moving stern 

 foremost. Then we swung around, and I could soon 

 make out that we were going down the little bay. The 

 forest-covered banks narrowed; then the marsh at the 

 end was lighted up, and on its hither edge, knee-deep 

 among the water-lilies, appeared the figure of a yearling 

 buck still in the red. It stood motionless, gazing at the 

 light with a curiosity wholly unmixed with alarm, and 

 at the shot wheeled and fell at the water's edge. We 

 made up our mind to return to camp that night, as it was 

 before midnight. I carried the buck and the torch, and 

 the guide the boat, and the mile walk over the dim trail, 



