AMONGST THE WILD GOATS OF THE CASCADES. 283 



two miles from the nearest land. How difficult an 

 object was the deer's head to distinguish, as it swam 

 amid the tumbling, rolling waters, I realised when I 

 tried to see it after the exact spot had been pointed 

 out. We were much in want of meat. By the 

 time I had extracted my rifle from a bag and taken 

 it from the case, and found the cartridges which were 

 in another bag, with all possible speed, the deer was 

 only a dozen yards ahead, and we were bearing down 

 on it at a speed of five knots under sail. The broad 

 ears were erect, and it was cleaving the waves at an 

 astonishing speed, turning from one direction to 

 another to avoid the advancing canoe. Just as I 

 pulled the trigger the pointed ears were laid flat back 

 upon the neck in an agony of fear, and in a moment 

 the bullet had done its deathly work, and the head 

 plunged below the surface. Dropping the rifle 

 quickly, I attempted to grasp some projecting portion 

 of the carcase as we swept over it. Jack, however, 

 managed to seize one of its feet, and both together we 

 dragged it over the side, its thick coat saturated 

 with water. Just at that moment the boom of a 

 distant gun informed me of the cause of the animal 

 thus attempting such a long swim against the tide 

 that some Indians on one of the islands at the entrance 

 of the inlet were driving deer into the sea, and 

 then pursuing them in canoes, their favourite mode 

 of killing them. We camped in a charming little 

 cove that evening, close to Fawn Bluff, on the east 

 shore, and left early the following morning, although 



