224 Tue Aroostook Woops. 


‘¢ Gracious me!” 
Just at dark, having everything arranged in the canoe for 
our expedition, we take the paddle and move away as 
cautiously as if a moose was close before us, when we 
little expect to see any large game until we have leisurely 
skirted the shore around, and the stream’s centre, to well up 
on its navigable waters, where it shows their trampings, and 
feeding grounds, and where they have bitten off the lilies and 
grasses; and we have seen their tracks leading in and out of 
the water. The night is just good enough, favorable and 
fine, with just stars enough to see our way. 
‘¢The wind blowing down stream is our biggest, fine 
point,” remarks the Commodore. 
We can see our way nicely as we glide silently, close 
in along the shore of the lake, through and over the black 
shadows of the evergreens, and under the overhanging trees 
and bushes. And over the smooth water the dip of the paddle 
scarcely makes an audible sound; showing only occasionally 
a light bubble upon the surface. We often disturb and some- 
times astonish the small game that are always astir in the 
evening. Always listening for any stir or movement on 
shore, we often hear those big sounds from little feet, as a 
mink or rabbit would jump away through the leaves when 
the canoe ran close beside them. They seem astonished to 
see us creeping slowly along in the night time, and by the 
sounds from them, they wait a bit to have a look at us before 
skipping away. And ‘Mr. Owl” scarcely ever allows you to 
pass without having the impudence to introduce himself with 
his ‘‘hoo-hoo-hoo! too-hoo-oo!” if in the evening. But this 
fellow’s greeting is mild compared with the old screecher — 
the big joker—that fairly jumps you, in the night, if not 
