Although it appeared desolate and lonely enough, still, if one but knew, back in the thick undergrowth about the lake, hidden by thick jungles of blackberry vines and dark spruces, there were many secret coverts and dens where the wild of the forest made their homes. The lake itself was almost completely surrounded by treacherous, oozy bogs and morasses, so that it was seldom visited by man. For this very reason the wild things felt safe, and the old King Loon had especially selected the spot, for the loon is the wildest of all wild water-fowl. Few of the other birds cared to meet the loon in battle, because of the mighty strength of his great wings, which could soon beat out the life of anything upon which they descended, while his heavy coat of feathers protected their wearer well. So when the loon sent its uncanny scream across the lake, more than one timid, wild thing cowered close to the ground and shook with sudden fear. [Illustration: DOWN LIKE AN AVALANCHE HE CAME, SNATCHING THE MINK IN HIS BEAK.] As soon as the young loons could tumble over the edge of their comfortless nest among the sedges, they made for the near-by water, and speedily began to imitate their elders, diving far down among the matted water-weeds and chasing minnows and little chunky perch, which they would gobble at one mouthful. At first Mahug and his mate watched the young loons, taking pains to give them diving lessons, and then encouraging them to take short flights, as soon as their wing feathers sprouted. Gradually the old birds left them more to themselves. So it happened one day that one of the young loons waddled forth from the nest and began to follow in the wake of a heron who was leisurely fishing alongshore. The loon mounted upon a large round stone, as he supposed; he did not notice that the stone moved a trifle. It did, and that which the young loon took for a mud-caked stone, was nothing less than a very old, giant snapping turtle, which lay there sunning himself. So old was this particular turtle that his flippers were covered with large scales and his shell looked to be fairly moss-covered. Over the top of the shell waddled the young loon, while the old turtle, without moving its ugly, snake-like head, watched with its hateful beady eyes every movement of the loon. It climbed over the top of the shell and when it came within reach of the turtle's long neck, like a flash it was snapped up by the old fellow. The heron gave a loud "kreay, kreay" of alarm, but no one heard him, so when the old loons got back to the nest one of the baby loons was missing. They flew out over the water, searching, screaming loudly, calling in and out among the sedges and tussocks, but of course the young loon never answered their wild calls.