A SPIKE BUCK. 189 



he can walk erect, and he involuntarily looks around him 

 for the armor of the ancient giants who piled up these stu- 

 pendous rocks and walled in the lake with these massive 

 boulders. 



As we swept around a point near the south shore of the 

 lake, we saw a deer at a quarter of a mile from us, feeding 

 upon the lily pads that grew along the shore. Spalding and 

 myself were in advance of our little fleet, and our boatman 

 paddled us carefully and silently towards the animal, using 

 the paddle only when its head was down. He would feed for 

 a minute or two and then look carefully all around him. Of 

 us he took no particular notice, although we were within 

 a hundred and fifty yards of him ; and even when we 

 were within sixty yards he seemed to regard us only as a 

 log floating upon the water, or something else which might 

 be regarded as perfectly harmless. Spalding was in the 

 bow of the boat, and when within some eight rods of the 

 game, we lay perfectly quiet for a moment, when his rule 

 spoke out and its voice rung and re-echoed among the sur- 

 rounding hills as if a whole platoon of musketry were blaz- 

 ing all around us. The deer made three or four desperate 

 leaps in a zigzag direction, and then went down. When 

 we got to him, he was dead. He was a fine two year old 

 buck, with spike horns, and in excellent condition. We took 

 his saddle and skin and passed on. 



From Round Pond we rowed up the inlet, a broad and 

 sluggish stream, full of grass and lily pads, to Little Tupper's 

 Lake. We saw several deer feeding along the shore that, 



