shed and shouted and then ran away to attract the bull's attention.
He came after me on the instant--_unh! unh! chock, chockety-chock!_ till
he was close enough for discomfort, when I took to water again. The bull
followed, deeper and deeper, till his sides were awash. The bottom was
muddy and he trod gingerly; but there was no fear of his swimming after
me. He knows his limits, and they stop him shoulder deep.

When he would follow no farther I swam to the canoe and tugged it out
into deep water. Umquenawis stood staring now in astonishment at the
sight of this queer man-fish. The red light died out of his eyes for the
first time, and his ears wigwagged like flags in the wind. He made no
effort to follow, but stood as he was, shoulder deep, staring,
wondering, till I landed on the point above, whipped the canoe over, and
spilled the water out of it.

The paddle was still fast to its cord--as it should always be in trying
experiments--and I tossed it into the canoe. The rattle roused
Umquenawis from his wonder, as if he had heard the challenging clack of
antlers on the alder stems. He floundered out in mighty jumps and came
swinging along the shore, _chocking_ and grunting fiercely. He had seen
the man again and knew it was no fish--_Unh! unh! eeeeeunh-unh!_ he
grunted, with a twisting, jerky wriggle of his neck and shoulders at the
last squeal, as if he felt me already beneath his hoofs. But before he
reached the point I had stuffed my flannel shirt into the hole in the
canoe and was safely afloat once more. He followed along the shore till
he heard the sound of voices at camp, when he turned instantly and
vanished in the woods.

A few days later I saw the grumpy old brute again in a curious way. I
was sweeping the lake with my field glasses when I saw what I thought
was a pair of black ducks near a grassy shore. I paddled over, watching
them keenly, till a root seemed to rise out of the water between them.
Before I could get my glasses adjusted again they had disappeared. I
dropped the glasses and paddled faster. They were diving, perhaps--an
unusual thing for black ducks--and I might surprise them. There they
were again; and there again was the old root bobbing up unexpectedly
between them. I whipped my glasses up--the mystery vanished. The two
ducks were the tips of Umquenawis' big antlers; the root that rose
between them was his head, as he came up to breathe.

It was a close, sultry afternoon; the flies and mos