relled fowling piece, and leaned forward in the canoe.

Basil

also conceived a hope that a shot was to be had, for he took up his rifle, and held it ready to fire. The others went steadily and quietly to work with 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 did not intend to take flight until the necessity arose for doing so; 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 the flight 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 had judged rightly; and the voyagers, to their chagrin, saw that, instead of gaining on 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 favor; so had they. He had oars, or paddles - his feet; they had oars as well. He "carried sail," while they had not a rag to spread. 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 swiftness of an arrow.

Unquestionably the swan had gone through a process of reasoning, and calculated his distance, and resolved to keep on "the even tenor of his way" without putting himself to extra trouble by beating the air with his wings. His judgment proved sound; for in less than ten minutes from the commencement of the chase, he had gained a clear hundred yards upon his pursuers, and continued to widen the distance. At intervals, he raised his beak higher than usual, and uttered his loud

booming note, which fell upon the ears of the voyagers as though it had been sent back in mockery and defiance.

They would have given up the chase, had they not noticed that, a few hundred yards farther down, the river made a sharp turn to the right. The swan, on reaching this, would no longer have the wind in his favor. This inspired them with fresh hopes. They thought they should be able to overtake him after passing the bend, and then either get a shot at him or force him into the air.

They bent, therefore, with fresh energy to their oars, and pulled onward in the pursuit. First the swan, and after him the canoe, swung round the bend, and entered the new reach of the river. The voyagers at once perceived that the bird now swam more slowly. He no longer "carried sail," as the wind was no longer in his favor. His wings lay closely folded to his body, and he moved only by the aid of his webbed feet and the current; which latter happened to be sluggish, as the river at this part spread over a wide expanse of level land. The canoe was evidently catching up, and each stroke was bringing the pursuers nearer the pursued.

After a few minutes' brisk pulling, the trumpeter had lost so much ground that he was not two hundred yards in advance, and "dead ahead." His body was no longer carried with the same gracefulness, and the majestic curving of the neck had disappeared. His bill protruded forward, and his thighs began to drag the water in his wake. He was evidently about to take wing. Both Basil and Francis saw this, and stood with their guns crossed and ready. At this moment, a shrill cry sounded over the water. It was the scream of some wild creature, ending in a strange laugh, like that of a maniac.

On both sides of the river there was a thick forest of tall trees of the cottonwood species. From this forest the strange cry had proceeded, and on the right bank. Its echoes had hardly ceased, when it was answered by a similar cry from the trees on the left. These cries were hideous enough to frighten any one not used to them. They had not that effect

upon the voyagers, who knew their import. One and all of them were familiar with the voice of the white-headed eagle.

The trumpeter knew it as well as any of them, but on him it produced a far different effect. His terror was apparent, and his intention was all at once changed. Instead of rising

into the air, as he had purposed, he suddenly lowered his head, and disappeared under the water.

Again was heard the wild scream and the maniac laugh; and the next moment, an eagle swept out from the timber, and, after a few strokes of its broad wing, poised itself over the spot where the trumpeter had gone down. The other, its mate, was seen crossing at the same time from the opposite side.

XXVI. —THE SAME, CONCLUDED.

PRESENTLY the swan rose to the surface; but his head was hardly out of the water, when the eagle once more uttered its wild note, and half folding its wings, darted down from above. The swan seemed to have expected this; for before the eagle could reach the surface, he had gone under the second time, and the latter, though passing with the velocity of an arrow, plunged his talons in the water to no purpose. With a cry of disappointment, the eagle mounted back into the air, and commenced wheeling in circles over the spot. It was now joined by its mate, and both kept wheeling round and round, watching for the reappearance of their intended victim.

Again the swan came to the surface; but before either of the eagles could swoop upon him, he had for the third time disappeared. The swan is but an indifferent diver; but under such circumstances he was likely to do his best at it. But what could it avail him? He must soon rise to the surface to take breath, each time at shorter intervals. He would soon become fatigued and unable to dive with sufficient quickness, and then his cruel enemies would be down upon him with their

terrible talons.

Such is the usual result, unless the swan takes to the air, which he sometimes does.

In the present case, he had built his hopes on a different means of escape. He intended to conceal himself in a heavy sedge of bulrushes that grew along the edge of the river, and towards these he was evidently directing his course under the water. At each emersion he appeared some yards nearer them, until at length he rose within a few feet of their margin, and diving again, was seen no more. He had crept in among the sedge, and no doubt was lying with only his head, or part of it, above the water, his body concealed by the broad leaves of the water lily, while the head itself could not be distinguished among the white flowers that lay thickly along the surface.

The eagles now wheeled over the sedge, flapping the tops of the bulrushes with their broad wings, and screaming with disappointed rage. Keen as were their eyes, they could not discover the hiding-place of their victim. No doubt they would have searched for it a long time, but the canoe - which they now appeared to notice for the first time had floated near; and becoming aware of their own danger, both mounted into the air again, and with a fearful scream flew off, and alighted at some distance down the river.

"A swan for supper," shouted Francis, as he poised his gun for the expected shot.

The canoe was headed for the bulrushes, near the point where the trumpeter had last been seen; and a few strokes of the paddles brought the little craft, with a whizzing sound, among the sedge. But the rushes were so tall, and grew so closely together, that the canoe men after entering, found, to their chagrin, that they could not see six feet around them. They dared not stand up, for this is very dangerous in a birch canoe, where the greatest caution is necessary to keep the ves、 sel from tipping over. Moreover, the sedge was so thick that it was with difficulty they could use their oars.

They remained stationary for a time, surrounded by a wall

of green bulrush. They soon perceived that this would never do, and resolved to push back into the open water. Meanwhile Marengo had been sent into the sedge, and was now heard tumbling and plunging about in search of the game. Marengo was not much of a water dog by nature, but he had been trained to almost every kind of hunting. His masters, therefore, had no fear but that he would "put up" the trumpeter.

Marengo had been let loose a little too soon. Before the canoe could be cleared of the entangling sedge, the dog was heard to utter one of his loud growls; then followed a heavy plunge, there was a confused fluttering of wings, and the great white bird rose majestically into the air. Before either of the youths could direct his aim, he was beyond the range of shot, and both prudently reserved their fire. The dog, having performed his part, swam back to the canoe, and was lifted in.

The swan, after clearing the sedge, rose almost vertically into the air, and, after attaining a height of several hundred yards, flew forward in a horizontal course, and followed the direction of the stream. His flight was now regular, and his trumpet note could be heard at intervals, as, with outstretched neck, he glided along the heavens. He seemed to feel the pleasant sensations that every creature has after an escape from danger, and no doubt he fancied himself secure.

But in this fancy he deceived himself. Better for him had he risen a few hundred yards higher, or else had uttered his self-gratulation in a more subdued tone; for it was heard and answered; and that response was the maniac laugh of the white eagle. At the same instant, two of these birds - those already introduced were seen mounting into the air. They did not fly up vertically, as the swan had done, but in spiral curves, wheeling and crossing each other as they ascended. They were making for a point that would cut off the flight of the swan, should he keep on in his horizontal course.

This, however, he did not do. With an eye as quick as theirs, he saw that he was "headed;" and stretching his long