k as strong as ever, and he gathered his feeble
strength for one last effort, and started up the tree. He was perhaps
six feet from the ground when the first report came.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!" Four shots, as fast as the self-cocking
revolver could pour the lead into his body. The Porky stopped climbing.
For an instant he hung motionless on the side of the tree, and then his
forepaws let go, and he swayed backward and fell to the ground. And that
was the end of the Porcupine.

THE ADVENTURES OF A LOON

HIS name was Mahng, and the story which I am about to relate is the
story of his matrimonial career--or at least of a portion of it.

One snowy autumn night, three years ago, he was swimming on the
Glimmerglass in company with his first wife--one of the first, that is.
There may possibly have been others before her, but if so I wasn't
acquainted with them. It was a fine evening--especially for loons. There
was no wind, and the big, soft flakes came floating lazily down to lose
themselves in the quiet lake. The sky, the woods, and the shores were
all blotted out; and the loons reigned alone, king and queen of a dim
little world of leaden water and falling snow. And right royally they
swam their kingdom, with an air as if they thought God had made the
Glimmerglass for their especial benefit. Perhaps He had.

[Illustration: "_He went under as simply as you would step out of
bed._"]

It was very, very lonely, but they liked it all the better for that. At
times they even lost sight of each other for a little while, as one
dived in search of a herring or a young salmon trout. I wish we could
have followed Mahng down under the water and watched him at his hunting.
He didn't dive as you do, with a jump and a plunge and a splash. He
merely drew his head back a little and then thrust it forward and
downward, and went under as simply and easily as you would step out of
bed, and with a good deal more dignity. It was his feet that did it, of
course. They were not good for much for walking, but they were the real
thing when it came to swimming or diving. They were large and broad and
strongly webbed, and the short stout legs which carried them were
flattened and compressed that they might slip edgewise through the
water, like a feathered oar-blade. The muscles which worked them were
very powerful, and they kicked backward with so much vigor that two
little jets of spray were often tossed up in his wake as he went unde