The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1904-09-11

ghostly cry of the loon came with the wind
and the lynx in the woods screamed angrily
at sight Of the flickering fire.
1t was in the pale gray light OF a vanish
ing moon that breakfast was served, and
the canoes loaded with guns and shot
a spaniel and four people. The sportsman
loves cheerful shiverer and there was
no complaint, but red sweaters for the early
morning frost.
Then the canoes glided silently into the
paddle. So they hoated down to the rice
beds. Near the silent, heartless little
deooys the light melowed and turned the
waving rice from gray to rose. and the
| pale yellow Of the beach deep gold and the
red naples into glowing spirit Of autumn:
| The people as silent as the decoys. The
| New York girl rested her shotgun on the
gunwale, her heart beating 30 that she
| knew the canoe vibrated. Then the first
sound of the morning came, a faint whistling
up the lake. whirring of wings and black
| wedge-shaped mass bore down over the
lake toward the rice beds.
The men sounded the wild duck notes,
| and the ducks bent cordially toward the
| decoys In answer to the call, futtering as
though to rest in the rice beds with friends
| for a morning meal. Then two shots from
| each canoe, wild scattering OF black wings
and a chorus of indignant bird protests,
! smoke curling up through the frosty air
| and feathers dropping down.
The spaniel leaped lightly over the gun
vale, without culver Of the canoe, and a
minute later two fat ducks were brought
triumphantly to the canoe edge, and the
New York girl had the first fruits OF her first
Canadian hunting trip. Four ducks in
reply to four shots proved that the women
had shot before, the chaperon at trap shoot
ing for practice and the New York girl at
blue-winged teal and mallard duck out in
the foothills of the Rockies.
second flock of black ducks and third
of teal followed at intervals, stopping to
answer decoy hospitality. and then shots
and wild fight, with the outline OF flying
wedge broken.
With ducks enough for dinner and supper
the chill air was forgotten and the beauty
of the morning was nothing, and there
was a brisk return to camp and rattle OF
pans and the building of fire OF tow r1ng
strength. The early rising and frost and
tites OF genuine woodsmen, and that whetted
with savory odors of broiling game.
A long dinner and long afternoon rest
and then came supper and sudden IAN
tastic determination. to take part OF the
river boat in the morning rather than paddle
up current.
1t is an old Indian legend that q canoe
travels better at night, that it is more fear
less, that the danger from wood or water
foe is less, that the birch bark craft 10 less
the New York girl must needs test the truth
and poetry of the tradition.
And so they broke camp by full moon
at 10 O'Clock and before midnight the canoes
were loaded, and slipping out into the
thick velvet blaclness of the bluff shadow
across the white waters. Close to the
shore were beds OF bracken, with here and
there single ghostly frond white as snow.
as though moonbeem had fingered too
long with it's disastrous embrace.
Out of the velvet shadows into the Broad
quiet ater, through the narrow thorough
fares across the smaller lakes and into the
winding stream the girl padded slowly,
with delicate dexteyity, the canoe espon.
sive, alert, and r1ysteriousiy identified
with the white night, N natures confdence,
a holder of hcr secrets. belonging to every
light and shadow to shore and midwater
a part Of the woods with allegiance trans
ferred to the stream.
The man had lived close to the forests
and the streams all his life. But the brood
ing tenderness of woods and water, the
stirring peace of the moonbeams, the sound
Of nature living at night, all came TO him
anew as a revelation; for the woods threw
their shadows over the girl, and the moon.
beams touched her hair and the night
sounds were for her ears.