hide in deep
solitude their poverty, and there renew their garments. Judge then,
reader, if you can, the consternation with which these once graceful
creatures discovered that their retreat had been found out by that
inquisitive biped, man--that they were actually caught in the act of
moulting!

Uttering a terrific "hoozoo!" or some such equally wild Red-Indian
hunting cry, English Chief dashed his paddle into the water; squaws and
comrade followed suit; the canoe shot in among the rushes, and the whole
party leaped on shore. Thus taken by surprise the swans bounced up,
extended their miserable wings, uttered a trumpet-blast of alarm, and
sought to fly. Of course they failed, but although they could not fly,
they fled on the wings of terror, and with straight necks, heads low,
legs doing double duty, and remnants of wings doing what they could,
they made for the interior of the island at a pace which at first defied
pursuit.

The higher part of the island was level and open, with here and there a
few stunted bushes.

Arrived here the trumpeting crew scattered, like wise troops when
pursued. English Chief set his heart and eyes on a particularly large
bird, and dashed after it with upraised paddle. The swan made a
desperate _detour_, apparently bent on gaining the water; it ran round a
bush, and was almost caught in the arms of the younger squaw, who,
leaving her senior in the canoe, had joined in the pursuit. A shriek
from the squaw sent it off at a tangent to the left, pinions aloft, and
terror depicted on its visage. English Chief also doubled, but a
crooked stump caught his foot and sent him headlong into the bush. At
that instant, Coppernose, having foiled a swan with a well-directed
sweep of his paddle, came up and gave chase. English Chief, nettled at
the interference, sprung up, followed and overtook him just as the
hard-pushed swan turned at bay. Both men came upon it at the same
moment, stumbled over it, and turned their wrath upon each other. The
swan, recovering, ran wildly and blindly back towards the young squaw,
who was so much alarmed by its look that she fairly turned and fled; but
hearing the shouts of the Indians as they struggled, she turned towards
them. Meanwhile, the elder squaw having landed, met the retreating swan
just as it gained the rushes. Stooping down she allowed it to approach
to within a yard of her--like a true heroine--and then, rising, hit it a
neat blow on the back