CHAPTER XX 

 After Deer 



THERE may be excitement enough in hunting the 

 elk in snow-shoes through the depths of Canadian 

 pine woods, with your huge quarry ploughing away 

 before you, belly deep in the yielding snow ; still more 

 of it in shooting sambur in the Indian jungles, when 

 each passing rustle in the leaves may mean anything, 

 from a monkey to a " man-eater." But after all it is 

 questionable whether you may not find more of the 

 poetry of sport in a day's stalking at home. If you 

 care for sensations, you may feel your blood flow as 

 fast and your pulse throb as fiercely ; and as for 

 roughing it, if you find a luxury in that, you can 

 import as much of hardship as you please into the 

 romance of your sylvan campaign. You have cast 

 your lot say, in one of the islands of the Atlantic, 

 and your lodge stands on the little arm of the sea, 

 that, embayed in sheltering headlands, comes winding 

 up through the woods. There the waves gently lap 



the shore, while you hear the faint roar of the ocean 



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