At first I had hunted him like any other 

 44 . . 



savage, — partly, of course, to get his skin for 



Cloud-tOinds ^^ curator ; partly, perhaps, to save the set- 

 "^ ^^ttie tier's lambs over on the Madawaska; but 

 *fiopfe (,]^jgfly j^g^ i-Q ]^iii ]^ij^^ l-o gxult in his death 



flaps, and to rid the woods of a cruel tyrant. 

 Gradually, however, a change came over me 

 as I hunted; I sought him less and less for 

 his skin and his life, and more and more for 

 himself, to know all about him. I used to 

 watch him by the hour from my camp on 

 the big lake, sailing quietly over Caribou 

 Point, after he had eaten with his little ones 

 and was disposed to let Ismaquehs go on 

 with his fishing in peace. He would set his 

 great wings to the breeze and sit like a kite 

 in the wind, mounting steadily in an immense 

 spiral, up and up, without the shadow of 

 effort, till the eye grew dizzy in following. 

 And I loved to watch him, so strong, so free, 

 so sure of himself — round and round, up and 

 ever up, without hurry, without exertion ; and 

 every turn found the heavens nearer and the 

 earth spread wider below. Now head and 

 tail gleam silver white in the sunshine ; now 



