The blue whale, even when not frightened, spouts very irregularly. Under ordinary circumstances it will blow from eight to fifteen times at a rising and always with a tremendous noise. The sound is a metallic, whistling roar which can be heard at a distance of three or four miles if there is a fog or the sea is calm. I always have a feeling of admiration when watching either a blue or finback whale, for the magnificent brutes move in a slow and dignified way as though conscious that they are the largest and most imposing animals of ancient or modern times. [Illustration: When sounding the finback sinks lower and lower until the dorsal fin disappears; this is the last part of the body to leave the surface. This species never draws out the flukes as do the humpback, sperm and right whales. ] As a supplement to my own experiences while hunting finbacks in Alaska, I have taken the liberty of quoting a portion of J. G. Millais’ description of killing a whale of this species off the Shetland coast, for it shows most admirably what real excitement one can have even in modern whaling: At 7:30 it was bitterly cold, when Captain Stokken again stood beside the gun, and we were in full pursuit of a large female Finback that seemed tamer than the rest. Eventually, in its final “roll,” the Whale raised itself about ten yards from the gun, and the whaler tipping the muzzle downwards, fired and struck the quarry under the backbone. At first the Finback was rather quiet, and then it began to run, the strong line rushing out at a speed of about fifteen knots. When some two miles of rope had gone over the bow I turned to Captain Stokken and said, “How much line have you got?” “About three mile,” was the curt reply. “But when that three mile goes, what then?” “Oh, well,” was the imperturbable answer, “then I check line, and we see which is strongest, Whale or rope. Perhaps harpoon draws out.” In the course of a minute the Captain gave the order to check the line. The strain now became terrific, the two-inch rope straining and groaning as if it would burst. At the same moment the little steamer leaped forward and raced over the seas at about twelve miles an hour. There was a feeling of intense exhilaration as we rushed northwards, the spray flying from our bows as the ship leaped from crest to crest in the heavy swell.