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 Song of the Loon_:-- "A-a-ah l-u-u-u-u-u-u' la. A-a-ah l-u-u-u-u-u-u' la. A-a-ah l-u-u-u-u-u-u' la. A-a-ah l-u-u-u-u-u-u' la." The minister of Immer Lake liked that song, and he liked the other music that they made. So it was that he sat before his door through many a summer twilight, and played on his violin until the loons answered with the _Tremble Song_:-- "O, ha-ha-ha, ho! O, ha-ha-ha, ho! O, ha-ha-ha, ho! O, ha-ha-ha, ho!" Then they would swim up and up, until they floated close to his cottage, feeding unafraid near by, while he played softly. Often, when Gavia and her mate were resting there or farther up the lake, some other loon would fly over; and then Father Loon would throw his head way forward and give another sort of song. "Oh-a-lee'!" he would begin, with his bill wide open; and then, nearly closing his mouth, he would sing, "Cleo'-pe''-a-rit'." The "Oh" starts low and then rises in a long, drawn way. Perhaps in all the music of Immer Lake there is nothing queerer than the _Silly Song of Father Loon_:-- "Oh-a-lee'! Cleo'-p''-a-rit', cleo'-pe''-a-rit', cleo'-per''-wer-wer! Oh-a-lee'! Cleo'-p''-a-rit', cleo'-pe''-a-rit', cleo'-pe''-wer-wer!" Such were the songs the two Olairs heard often and again, while they were growing up; and they must have added much to the interest of their first summer.