100 THE ST. REGIS AND SARANACS. 



The truth of history requires me to add that before we 

 reached the loug cany, the Editor and Chris, saw still 

 another deer, and that after we had taken our l)oats above 

 the bridge and before we reached the lake, in tlie darkness, 

 we drove out two more that "whistled " and tied awa3\ — 

 making five or six that we saw or heard thntevening. No- 

 body in the region was able to inform me whether any lone 

 and solitary boatman had ever been attacked anfl trampled 

 to death by these wandering herds. It is well, however, 

 to go down that river well armed. 



Soon after the deer's adventure with us, (it didn't exactly 

 seem to be our adventure, under the circumstances,) we 

 came to a shingle-maker's deserted, little l)ark shanty. In 

 the fast waning light we went ashore, and while lunching 

 stretclied our weary limbs in the onlj' dr}-^ j^lace we had 

 seen since the storm broke upon us. We left our bag of 

 potatoes and some other provisions, for the next part}^ that 

 might make an expedition here. The old woodsmen are 

 accustomed to make these imi)romptu cacJux, and invariably, 

 when reaching a deserted camp, hunt about to tind some- 

 thing that maj' have been left bj^ any party preceding 

 them. A half- peck of potatoes is always an acceptable 

 "tind," and a few lemons are gratefully appreciated, while 

 a piece of fat pork hid under the bark-roof is not despised. 

 Genuine food in the wilderness, with the nearest provision 

 store twenty miles awa^', and the stock on hand reduced to 

 low ebb, is prized like water in the desert. 



When we started out for our long tramp over the carry 

 it was dark on the river, but the forest was blackness itself. 



