t. If you had given chase in a boat,
the wee-est loon would have sailed off faster yet on the back of his
father; and when you grew tired and stopped, you would have heard, as if
mocking you, the old bird give, in a laughing voice, the _Tremble Song:_

"O, ha-ha-ha, ho!--O, ha-ha-ha, ho!--
O, ha-ha-ha, ho!--O, ha-ha-ha, ho!--"

If you had tried again a few days later, the young loon would have been
able to dive and swim by himself out of sight under water, the old ones
giving him warning of danger and telling him what to do.

But no child chased the two Olairs and no lawbreaker fired a shot at
Gavia or Father Loon. They had frights and narrow escapes in plenty
without that; but those were of the sorts that loons get used to century
after century, and not modern disasters, like guns, that people have
recently brought into wild places. For the only man who dwelt on the
shore of Immer Lake was a minister.

Because he loved his fellow men, this minister of Immer Lake spent part
of his days among them, doing such service to the weak of spirit as only
a minister can do, who has faith that there is some good in every
person. At such times he was a sort of servant to all who needed him.

Because he loved, also, his fellow creatures who had lived in the
beautiful wild places of this land much longer than any man whatsoever,
he spent part of his days among them. At such times he was a sort of
hermit.

Then no handy trolley rumbled by to take him on his near way. No train
shrieked its departure to distant places where he might go. There was no
interesting roar of mill or factory making things to use. There was no
sociable tread of feet upon the pavement, to give him a feeling of human
companionship.

But, for all that, it was not a silent world the minister found at Immer
Lake. On sunny days the waves, touching the rocks on the shore, sang
gently, "Bippo-bappo, bippo-bappo." The trees clapped their leaves
together as the breezes bade them. The woodpeckers tapped tunes to each
other on their hollow wooden drums. The squirrels chattered among the
branches. At dawn and at dusk the thrushes made melodies everywhere
about.

On stormy nights the waves slapped loudly upon the rocks. The branches
whacked against one another at the mighty will of the wind. The thunder
roared applause at the fireworks the lightning made. And best of all,
like the very spirit of the wild event, there rang the strange, sweet
moaning _Storm