Short Flights by Meredith Nicholson - HTML preview

FIRE-HUNTING.

WITH dip and glide a light canoe

Crept through the waters of the lake;

So softly, lightly creeping through

That it did not the silence break.

A lantern’s penetrating glow

Burned in the dark a path of light,

And far-off, on its margin, lo!

A pair of eyes gleamed strangely bright!

The paddling ceased; there fell a hush.

Then came a ringing rifle-shot—

A plunge into the underbrush—

Upon the beach a dark blood-clot!

With dip and glide a light canoe

Crept through the waters of the lake,

So softly, lightly creeping through

That it did not a ripple make.