Nelson on the Black Brant. 1 33 



gr-r-r-r rises in a faint monotonous matinal whose tone a week 

 later may waken the weird silence in unknown lands about the 

 Pole. 



Reaching the knoll before mentioned, we pitch our tent and 

 after tieing the dogs to keep them within bounds we separate to 

 take positions for the morning night. Each of the party is soon 

 occupying as little space as possible behind some insignificant 

 knoll or tuft of grass that now and then breaks the monotonous 

 level. The sun rises slowly higher and higher, until, at length, 

 the long narrow bands of fog hovering over the bare ground are 

 routed. Now we have not long to wait, for, as usual at this 

 season, the lakes, which are frozen oyer nightly, open under the 

 rays of the sun between seven and nine in the morning and start 

 the waterfowl upon their way. The notes which, until now, 

 have been uttered in a low conversational tone, are raised and 

 heard more distinctly and have a harsher intonation. The cho- 

 rus swells and dies away like the sound of an aeolian harp of one 

 or two heavy bass strings and. as we lie close to the ground, 

 the wind whispers. among the dead plants in a low undertone as 

 an accompaniment ; but, while we lay dreaming, the sun has 

 done its work ; the lakes have opened, and, suddenly, a harsh 

 gr-r-r-r^ gr-r-r-r. gr-r-r-r causes us to spring up. but too late. 

 for, gliding away to the northward, the first Hock goes unscathed. 

 After a few energetic remarks upon Geese in general and this 

 fiock in particular we resume our position but keep on the alert 

 to do honor to the next party. 



Soon, skimming along the horizon, flock after flock is seen as 

 they rise and hurry by on either side. Fortune now favors us 

 and a large flock makes directly for the ambush, their complicated 

 and graceful evolutions leading us to almost forget why we art- 

 lying here upon our face in the bog with our teeth rattling a 

 devil's tattoo in the raw wind. On they come, only a few feet 

 above the ground, until, when twenty or thirty yards away. 

 we suddenly rise upon one knee and strike terror into the hearts 

 of the unsuspecting victims. In place of the admirable order 

 before observed all is confusion and. seemingly in hope of mutual 

 protection, the frightened birds crowd into a mass over the centre 

 of the flock, uttering, the while, their ordinary note raised in 

 alarm to a higher key. This is the sporstman's time and a double 

 discharge as they are nearly overhead will often brine down from 



