A YOUNG LOOK. 363 



under, and came up within an oar's length of my boat, 

 as if to see whether her young were there. Quicker 

 than thought she disappeared again, and the next time 

 came to the surface within fair shot. I had often 

 amused myself firing at these birds, sometimes by the 

 hour, just to see them dodge the flash of the gun from 

 the muzzle, and I thought I would now see if she could 

 keep her eye on her young ones and me, too. Taking 

 a steady aim, I fired. A quill flew from her back, and 

 for a long time I saw no more of her. I knew I had not 

 killed her, or she would have floated on the surface. 

 Besides, I was quite certain that if the ball had hit the 

 hard quills of her wings it would have glanced from 

 them as from a rock, and soon her loud cry a quarter of 

 a mile away assured me that she was safe. The heavy 

 blow of the bullet had frightened her, so that she kept 

 aloof from her young. For a time chasing them seemed 

 like chasing fish. The quickness of their movements 

 was astonishing. They would allow me to approach 

 within a few feet of them, all the time watching every 

 -movement, and then the little bullet-black heads would 

 vanish like a flash. I succeeded, however, in tiring one 

 out, and so far as I know was the first person that ever 

 held a young northern diver in his hand. 



