Hukweem the Night Voice. 143 



waves, like a dolphin, before he can stop. But where 

 the lake is small, and he cannot come down that way, 

 he has a dizzy time of it. 



Once, on a little lake in September, I used to watch 

 for hours to get a sight of the process. Twelve or 

 fifteen loons were gathered there, holding high carni- 

 val. They called down every migrating loon that 

 passed that way; their numbers increased daily. 

 Twilight was the favorite time for arriving. In the 

 stillness I would hear Hukweem far away, so high 

 that he was only a voice. Presently I would see him 

 whirling over the lake in a great circle. — " Come down, 

 O come down," cry all the loons. " I 'm afraid, 000-ho- 

 ho-ho-ho-koooo-eee, I 'm afraid," says Hukweem, who is 

 perhaps a little loon, all the way from Labrador on 

 his first migration, and has never come down from a 

 height before. " Come on, O come oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-hon. 

 It won't hurt you; we did it; come on," cry all the 

 loons. 



Then Hukweem would slide lower with each circle, 

 whirling round and round the lake in a great spiral, 

 yelling all the time, and all the loons answering. 

 When low enough, he would set his wings and 

 plunge like a catapult at the very midst of the as- 

 sembly, which scattered wildly, yelling like school- 

 boys — "Look out! he'll break his neck; he'll hit 



