a shot was to be had, for he took up his rifle, and looked to
the cock and cap. The others went steadily and quietly to work at the
oars. In a few moments the canoe cleft the current at the rate of a
galloping horse, and one would have supposed that the swan must either
at once take wing or be overtaken.

Not so, however. The "trumpeter" knew his game better than that. He had
full confidence both in his strength and speed upon the water. He was
not going to undergo the trouble of a fly, until the necessity arose for
so doing; and, as it was, he seemed to be satisfied that that necessity
had not yet arrived. The swim cost him much less muscular exertion than
flying would have done, and he judged that the current, here very swift,
would carry him out of reach of his pursuers.

It soon began to appear that he judged rightly; and the voyageurs, to
their chagrin, saw that, instead of gaining upon him, as they had
expected, every moment widened the distance between him and the canoe.
The bird had an advantage over his pursuers. Three distinct powers
propelled him, while they had only two to rely upon. He had the current
in his favour--so had they. He had oars or paddles--his feet; they had
oars as well. He "carried sail," while they spread not a "rag." The wind
chanced to blow directly down-stream, and the broad wings of the bird,
held out from his body, and half extended, caught the very pith of the
breeze on their double concave surfaces, and carried him through the
water with the velocity of an arrow. Do you think that he was not aware
of this advantage when he started in the race?

Do you suppose that these birds do not _think_? I for one am satisfied
they do, and look upon every one who prates about the _instinct_ of
these creatures as a philosopher of a very old school indeed. Not only
does the great swan think, but so does your parrot, and your piping
bullfinch, and the little canary that hops on your thumb. All think, and
_reason_, and _judge_. Should it ever be your fortune to witness the
performance of those marvellous birds, exhibited by the graceful Mdlle.
Vandermeersch in the fashionable _salons_ of Paris and London, you will
agree with me in the belief that the smallest of them has a mind like
yourself.

Most certainly the swan, which our voyageurs were pursuing, thought, and
reasoned, and judged, and calculated his distance, and resolved to keep
on "the even tenor of his way," without putting himself to extr