I went back and hunted awhile for the nest among the bogs of a little
bay; then left the search to investigate a strange call that sounded
continuously farther up the shore. It came from some hidden spot in
the tall grass, an eager little whistling cry, reminding me somehow of
a nest of young fish-hawks.

As I waded cautiously among the bogs, trying to locate the sound, I
came suddenly upon the loon's nest--just the bare top of a bog, where
the mother bird had pulled up the grass and hollowed the earth enough
to keep the eggs from rolling out. They were there on the bare ground,
two very large olive eggs with dark blotches. I left them undisturbed
and went on to investigate the crying, which had stopped a moment as I
approached the nest.

Presently it began again behind me, faint at first, then louder and
more eager, till I traced it back to Hukweem's household. But there
was nothing here to account for it, only two innocent-looking eggs on
top of a bog. I bent over to examine them more closely. There, on the
sides, were two holes, and out of the holes projected the points of
two tiny bills. Inside were two little loons, crying at the top of
their lungs, "Let me out! O let me out! It's hot in here. Let me
out--_Oooo-eee! pip-pip-pip_!"

But I left the work of release to the mother bird, thinking she knew
more about it. Next day I went back to the place, and, after much
watching, saw two little loons stealing in and out among the bogs,
exulting in their freedom, but silent as two shadows. The mother bird
was off on the lake, fishing for their dinner.

Hukweem's fishing is always an interesting thing to watch.