8o 



How I Learned to Love and Not to L'Cill. 



Bloodyhand urging me on to slay, so put- 

 ting my gun this time close to the little chap 

 I ended his terrible fright with his life. 



That was the last rabbit I ever killed. 

 All that evening a great sorrow grew in my 

 heart for the poor little fellow, so beautiful 

 there in the white snow drift. I hated my- 

 self for my cruelty, and at length, unable to 

 check the tide of my regret, burst into 

 tears, and sat there by the fire sobbing bit- 

 terly, though I would not tell the other 

 boys the cause. They would laugh at me 

 again, laugh at me even because I was piti- 

 ful. What would I not have given only to 

 restore the life of that one little animal, so 

 innocent, so harmless and so beautiful ? 

 For days I was haunted by the thought of 

 how I had chased that little rabbit only to 

 slay him when "all the pleasure of posses- 

 sion ended as soon as he was dead." 



During the following summer my father 

 took us all to White Bear Lake in Minne- 

 sota, where, before the completion of the 

 railroad, everything was wild and undis- 

 turbed. There was a Captain Carter who 

 used to shoot well with the rifle, and it 

 seemed to be one of his greatest ambitions 

 to kill a loon, that large and beautiful bird 

 known to naturalists as " the great north- 

 ern diver," because of the remarkable way 

 in which they dive and remain underwater. 

 So quick indeed is this great bird, that it 

 is almost impossible to hit one of them 

 with a ball, for they dive at the flash, and 

 are gone from the surface before the shot 

 reaches the ripples they have left behind. 



I soon learned to love the loons ; they 

 were such strangely shy creatures and filled 

 me with longings for the far off and lonely 

 places reached by their swift flight. Hard 

 enough was it for a loon to leave the lake, 

 and only with a good wind to aid, could this 

 strange bird lift himself over the treetops, 

 but once in air, with a strange cry like a 

 weird laughter, he would circle round and 

 round, and at length shoot away like an 

 arrow for some distant and more lonely 



spot, disappearing from my longing sight, 

 for somehow I always wanted to go with 

 the loons. 



One day Captain Carter had shot many 

 times at a large loon — until exasperated by 

 his failure, he determined upon a new way 

 of loon hunting. Putting up a board screen 

 to hide the flash of his rifle, he at length 

 succeeded in hitting the bird in the left 

 wing. The loon nevertheless dived, but 

 being too badly hit to remain long under, 

 came repeatedly to the surface, and was at 

 length captured, still alive, by the delight- 

 ed captain, who brought his prize to the 

 little hotel, where he was soon surrounded 

 by a crowd of curious and e.Kclaiming 

 guests. 



I think it was certainly one of the most 

 pathetic sights I have ever seen. There on 

 the ground sat the beautiful bird, head 

 erect, with the white ring round its coal 

 black throat, and the softest melancholy in 

 the large eyes, that were fixed with longing 

 on the far away lake. Unable to stand on 

 the land, it lay there wounded and helpless 

 with such a dignity that all were moved 

 who saw it. 



" Captain," said a gentleman in the circle, 

 " I'll give you ten dollars to set that bird 

 free." 



The captain hesitated. 



" Gentlemen," said the captain, " I would 

 gladly do as you desire, for I feel as badly 

 about this as any of you, but the bird is too 

 deeply wounded to live — it is too late." 



This incident made a deep impression 

 upon me, and I have ever since had such a 

 sentiment in regard to the loon, that though 

 often in camps further north where food 

 was scarce, I have discouraged my Indian 

 camp followers from killing him. One 

 evening, however, I lay camped on an island 

 in Ogitchie Muncie (Kingfisher) Lake. The 

 Indians had gone off in the birch canoes 

 in search of our supper, for our flour was 

 exhausted and indeed we were all very 

 hungry. The lake was smooth as a glassy 



