A HUNTING-PARTY. DESERTERS. 



Ill 



under similar circumstances, get credit for being perfect 

 Nimrods. A halt was at length called, and old Chief John, 

 no small bug, spoke like an oracle. The deer had gone 

 to the big swamp, and if wo wanted buck we must go 

 there. Off again we started, I having come to the deter- 

 mination that the whole thing was a humbug, and that I 

 would slip off the first available opportunity. The desired 

 chance soon offered, and after half an hour's walking I 

 struck the margin of the lake where the canoes had been 

 left. Another I found before me at this rendezvous, which 

 helped much to console me for not being the only deserter. 



