Last summer, just below my camp on 

 Matagammon, was a little beach between 

 two points surrounded by dense woods that 

 the deer seemed to love better than any 

 other spot on the whole lake. When we first 

 arrived the deer were close about our camp. 

 From the door we could sometimes see them 

 on the lake shore, and every evening at twi- 

 light they would steal up shyly to eat the 

 potato and apple parings. Gradually the 

 noises of camp drove them far back on the 

 ridges, though on stormy nights they would 

 come back when the camp was still and all 

 lights out. From my tent 'I would hear 

 cautious rustlings or the crack of a twig 

 above the drip and pour of raindrops on my 

 tent-fly, and stealing out in the darkness 

 would find two or three deer, generally a doe 

 and her fawns, standing under the split roof 

 of our \voodshed to escape the pelting rain. 



The little beach was farther away, across 

 an arm of the lake and out of sight and sound 

 of our camp, so the deer never deserted it, 

 though we watched them there every day. 

 Just w r hy they liked it I could never discover. 



