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Updated: June 24, 2025
Two or three male loons passed over the Glimmerglass one afternoon, calling and shouting as they went, and he flew up and joined them, and came back no more that summer.
Fifteen years had passed away, ere it was in the power of the Deerslayer to revisit the Glimmerglass. A peace had intervened, and it was on the eve of another and still more important war, when he and his constant friend, Chingachgook, were hastening to the forts to join their allies.
The deer with the perfect antlers was not only vanquished, but killed; and the victor was off on the trail of the doe. And so our friend became the champion of the Glimmerglass, and in all the woods there was not a buck that could stand against him. But his brother deer were not his only enemies.
Now that the refusal came, and that in terms so decided as to put all cavilling out of the question; if not absolutely dumbfounded, he was so much mortified and surprised as to feel no wish to attempt to change her resolution. "The Glimmerglass has now no great call for me," he exclaimed after a minute's silence.
We didn't shoot them, but we did surround them, and by working carefully and cautiously we "shooed" them into an empty log-house. And the next day we had them for dinner. Around the shores of the Glimmerglass a few loons and wild-ducks usually nested, and in the autumn the large flocks from the Far North often stopped there for short visits, on their way south for the winter.
The Glimmerglass was neither glimmering nor glassy that morning, but he and his mother were snug and warm in their wooden nest, and they cared little for the storm that was raging outside.
But the killing machines are to be found occasionally at all seasons of the year, and somebody had set this one down by the edge of the water not the Glimmerglass, but a branch of the Tahquamenon River and had chained it to a log that had been hung up in last spring's drive.
"I thank you, Huron or Mingo, as I most like to call you," returned the other, "I thank you for the welcome, and I thank you for the fire. Each is good in its way, and the last is very good, when one has been in a spring as cold as the Glimmerglass. Even Huron warmth may be pleasant, at such a time, to a man with a Delaware heart." "The pale-face but my brother has a name?
That was what happened to Mahng and his wife, for one spring evening, as they came rushing over the pine-tops and the maples and birches, they saw the Glimmerglass just ahead. The water lay like polished steel in the fading light, and the brown ranks of the still leafless trees stood dark and silent around the shores.
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