112 ADVENTURES IN THE WILDERNESS. 



" Eeady with your other barrel there. The loon 

 is tiring. I hear her blow when she comes up. 

 She can't stay under long. I '11 run you down 

 upon her soon. HEEE she is ! " he screamed, 

 " uncle?' your very ^nuzzles ! " 



I turned, and sure enough there sat the loon 

 within six feet of the boat, in the very act of shak- 

 ing the water from her eyes. The rifle lay across 

 my knee, the barrels in direct line with the bird. 

 Without lifting it, or moving an inch, I pulled, 

 and water, smoke, and feathers flew into the air 

 together. A loud '•' quack " from the loon, and a 

 convulsive yell from John, his mouth opening and 

 shutting spasmodically as roar after roar of ahnost 

 hysterical laughter came pouring out, followed the 

 discharge. I was just fitting a cap to a freshly 

 charged barrel, when the loon broke the water 

 again at short range, her back nearly bare of 

 feathers ; and as she dived another tuft flew up, 

 cut by the passing ball, and John pronounced her 

 " nearly picked." But now the storm broke over 

 the mountain. The rush and roar and crash of 

 wind and thunder drowned the report, and only 

 by the flash might a spectator know I was firing. 

 The gloom grew thicker. A cloud settled over the 

 lake, and we were wrapped within its fleecy folds. 

 Only once more, as a flash clove through the fog, I 

 saw the loon, and fired. Then dense and dark the 

 storm swept down around us. Wild, fitful gusts 



