GRINDSTONE BROOK. 101 



releasing the hook from his jaw, we returned him to the lake 

 again. 



Two miles from the head of the lake, on the east side, 

 is a deep bay at the head of which enters a little brook that 

 comes creeping along for a mile among the tangled roots of 

 ancient hemlocks and spruce, singing gaily among the loose 

 stones, sometimes disappearing entirely beneath bridges of 

 moss, and sometimes sparkling in the sunlight, on its way 

 to the lake. This little stream we found swarming with 

 speckled trout of the size of minnows, and at its mouth the 

 large trout congregated. As we rounded one of the points 

 that .shut out the view of this bay from the lake, we saw 

 two deer feeding quietly upon the lily pads along the shore, 

 some quarter of a mile from us. We dropped quietly back 

 behind the point, where Smith and one of the boatmen 

 prepared to take a shot at them. Martin took his seat in 

 the stern with his paddle, and Smith lay stretched at length 

 along the bottom of the boat upon boughs prepared for the 

 occasion, with his rifle resting upon the forward end of the 

 boat. It was broad daylight, and to paddle up within 

 shooting distance of a deer under such circumstances, in 

 plain view of an animal the most wary, is a delicate job, 

 but it may be done. I have more than once been thus 

 paddled within thirty yards of a deer while feeding in the 

 water. The wind must be blowing from the deer to the 

 hunter, or the scent will alarm the animal, and he will go 

 snorting and bounding away. 



Smith and Martin passed silently out into the bay, and 



