tle bark jumped
forward as if alive. But I had scarcely started when--klrrrr! klrrr!
ik-ik--ik! Over my head swept Koskomenos with a rush of wings and an
alarm cry that spoke only of haste and danger. I had a glimpse of
the bear as he shot into the alders, as if thrown by a catapult; the
kingfisher wheeled in a great rattling circle about the canoe before
he pitched upon the old stump, jerking his tail and clattering in great
excitement.

I swung noiselessly out into the lake, where I could watch the alders.
They were all still for a space of ten minutes; but Mooween was there, I
knew, sniffing and listening. Then a great snake seemed to be wriggling
through the bushes, making no sound, but showing a wavy line of
quivering tops as he went.

Down the shore a little way was a higher point, with a fallen tree that
commanded a view of half the lake. I had stood there a few days before,
while watching to determine the air paths and lines of flight that
sheldrakes use in passing up and down the lake,--for birds have runways,
or rather flyways, just as foxes do. Mooween evidently knew the spot;
the alders showed that he was heading straight for it, to look out on
the lake and see what the alarm was about. As yet he had no idea what
peril had threatened him; though, like all wild creatures, he had obeyed
the first clang of a danger note on the instant. Not a creature in the
woods, from Mooween down to Tookhees the wood mouse, but has learned
from experience that, in matters of this kind, it is well to jump to
cover first and investigate afterwards.

I paddled swiftly to the point, landed and crept to a rock from which I
could just see the fallen tree. Mooween was coming. "My bear this time,"
I thought, as a twig snapped faintly. Then Koskomenos swept into the
woods, hovering over the brush near the butt of the old tree, looking
down and rattling--klrrrik, clear out! klrrr-ik, clear out! There was a
heavy rush, such as a bear always makes when alarmed; Koskomenos swept
back to his perch; and I sought the shore, half inclined to make my next
hunting more even-chanced by disposing of one meddlesome factor. "You
wretched, noisy, clattering meddler!" I muttered, the front sight of my
rifle resting fair on the blue back of Koskomenos, "that is the third
time you have spoiled my shot, and you won't have another chance.--But
wait; who is the meddler here?"

Slowly the bent finger relaxed on the trigger. A loon went floating by
the