142 Wilderness Ways. 



become shorter and more confused; you follow him 

 more surely because you can see him plainly now as he 

 goes down. Suddenly he bursts out of water beside 

 you, scattering the spray into your canoe. Once he 

 came up under my paddle, and I plucked a feather 

 from his back before he got away. 



This last appearance always scares him out of his 

 wits, and you get what you have been working hard 

 for — a sight of Hukweem getting under way. Away 

 he goes in a smother of spray, beating the water with 

 his wings, kicking hard to lift himself up ; and so for 

 a hundred yards, leaving a wake like a stern-wheel 

 steamer, till he gathers headway enough to rise from 

 the water. 



After that first start there is no sign of awkward- 

 ness. His short wings rise and fall with a rapidity 

 that tries the eye to follow, like the rush of a coot 

 down wind to decoys. You can hear the swift, strong 

 beat of them, far over your head, when he is not 

 calling. His flight is very rapid, very even, and often 

 at enormous altitudes. But when he wants to come 

 down he always gets frightened, thinking of his short 

 wings, and how high he is, and how fast he is going. 

 On the ocean, in winter, where he has all the room he 

 wants, he sometimes comes down in a great incline, 

 miles long, and plunges through and over a dozen 



