s they separated a
little, his gun would speak; a sudden splashing of water; a sharp
whistle of rapid wings cutting the air; a form, paddling an uncertain
circle in the pond, then lying strangely flat upon the surface.
Harris as yet had no dog, and often it meant stripping and a sharp
plunge in the ice-cold water to bring in the trophy; but the strong,
athletic young man counted that only part of the sport. At other
times the nights were clamorous with the honking of wild geese, and
in the morning Harris, slipping quietly over the bank of the coulee,
would see the prairie white as from new-fallen snow with the backs of
countless thousands of "wavies." Sometimes the geese, secure in the
supposedly unsettled wilderness, relaxed the vigour of their military
guard, and on such occasions he could get within range. But if there
is one quality the goose lacks it is that which is most attributed to
him--foolishness. On his marches through the unmapped desert of the
air he moves with the precision of an army in the field, scouting out
all the land, taking aerial observations before making camp, and
immediately throwing out sentries around his feeding ground. But
long-continued immunity from attack breeds carelessness, even in a
goose, and the price of such neglect frequently adorned the table in
Harris's cabin.

The prairie flowers, too, were a never-ending delight to the heart of
the young woman. She knew some of them by name, but many were
peculiar to the prairie. The first few warm days of spring had
clothed all the wilderness with a magic carpet of pale-purplish
blossoms, and the advancing season brought new blooms to view with
every passing week. On Sundays, when there was total relaxation from
their regular labours, the two, arm in arm, would stroll along the
bank of the ravine, or walk, ankle-deep in strawberry blossoms, far
over the undulating plain to the west. Returning, they would find
their way to the edge of the stream, where, in the shallow crossing,
the suckers would dart in all directions in panic at their
appearance. Here they would sit and listen to the gentle murmur of
the water, while fleecy clouds mirrored themselves in its glassy
depths, and plovers ran whistling up and down the bank, and a
meadow-lark sent its limpid challenge from a neighbouring bush. And
at night, when the moon rose in wonderful whiteness and purity,
wrapping field and ravine in a riot of silver, the strange,
irresistible, unanswerable