LOON-SHOOTING IN A THUNDER-STORM. Ill 



])rotest at the abuse. The gloom grew darker. 

 The wind, in quick, nervous puffs, broke over the 

 mountain, and where it touched the lake lifted 

 1 he spray high into the air. A few plunging drops 

 of rain smote the water and boat like bullets. 

 The hot lightning fairly hissed through the murky 

 atmosphere above us ; so sharp, so bright, so close, 

 that the lake at times seemed as on fire, burning 

 with a blue, ghastly light. The thunder was inces- 

 sant. The dwellers in lowland countries know 

 nothing what thunder is amid the hills. 'No single 

 clap or peal was there, but rush and roar continu- 

 ous, and crackling bolts and rumble and jar. Across 

 the lake, over our heads, the volleys went. The 

 mountain eastward, receiving a bolt against its 

 sides, would roll it back, while the mountain op- 

 posite, catching the mighty boom as players do a 

 ball, would hurl it sharply home. And so the wild 

 play went on. Mountain besieging mountain, hill 

 pelting hill ; while we, amid the deepening gloom 

 and tumult, swept hither and thither, keeping sight 

 of the loon, whose rises were frequent and breath 

 nearly gone. 



" John," said I, shouting so he could hear me amid 

 the confusion, — " John, pull for the shore ; it 's 

 time to go." 



" Give her one more," said John ; " here she rises, 

 over your left " ; and as the smoke from the dis- 

 charge floated up, spHt by a gust, John shouted : 



