In the Sierra 



wind, slight hoarfrost on the meadows. 

 Carlo is missing ; have been seeking him 

 all day. In the thick woods between camp 

 and the river, among tall grass and fallen 

 pines, I discovered a baby fawn. At first it 

 seemed inclined to come to me; but when 

 I tried to catch it, and got within a rod 

 or two, it turned and walked softly away, 

 choosing its steps like a cautious, stealthy, 

 hunting cat. Then, as if suddenly called or 

 alarmed, it began to buck and run like a 

 grown deer, jumping high above the fallen 

 trunks, and was soon out of sight. Possibly 

 its mother may have called it, but I did 

 not hear her. I don't think fawns ever leave 

 the home thicket or follow their mothers 

 until they are called or frightened. I am 

 distressed about Carlo. There are several 

 other camps and dogs not many miles from 

 here, and I still hope to find him. He never 

 left me before. Panthers are very rare here, 

 and I don't think any of these cats would 

 dare touch him. He knows bears too well 



