d erect looking at the
torch carried by one of the party, while the other took sight between
their glancing eyes and fired the deadly bullet. Remembering this, they
could easily believe that the swans might act in a similar manner.

It was not long until they were convinced of it by actual experience.
As the canoe rounded a bend in the river, three large white objects
appeared in the "reach" before them. A single glance satisfied all that
they were swans, though, in the deceptive glare of the torch, they
appeared even larger than swans. Their long upright necks, however,
convinced the party they could be nothing else, and the canoe was headed
directly for them.

As our hunters approached, one of the birds was heard to utter his
strange trumpet-note, and this he repeated at intervals as they drew
nearer.

"I have heard that they sing before death," muttered Francois to Basil,
who sat nearest him. "If so, I hope that's the song itself;" and
Francois laughed quietly at the joke he had perpetrated.

Basil also laughed; and Lucien, who had overheard the remark, could not
restrain himself from joining in the laughter.

"I fear not," rejoined Basil; "there is hardly enough music in the note
to call it a song. They may live to `blow their own trumpet' a long
while yet."

This remark called forth a fresh chorus of laughter, in which all took
part; but it was a very silent kind of laughter, that could not have
been heard ten yards off: it might have been termed "laughing in a
whisper."

It soon ended, however, as matters now became serious: they were already
within less than two hundred yards of the game, and the greatest caution
had to be observed. The gunners had arranged the order of fire: Basil
was to shoot first, taking steady aim with his rifle at any one of the
birds; while Francois should fire as soon as he heard the report of his
brother's gun, taking the remaining swans upon the wing, with one or
both barrels, as he best might.

At length Basil deemed himself near enough, and, levelling his piece,
fired. The bird threw out its wings, and flattened down upon the water,
almost without a struggle. The other two were rising into the air, when
"crack! crack!" went the two barrels of Francois' piece, and one of the
swans fell back with a broken wing, and fluttered over the surface of
the stream. Basil's had been shot dead, and was taken up easily; but
the wounded bird was only captured after a long chase wi