SHOOTING A DEER. 379 



moose bad crossed the stream evidently but a few bours 

 before. The soft eartb was displaced as tbougb an ox 

 bad trodden there. 



As we were returning, we saw a deer feeding on the 

 marsh, and John told me to shoot him. I stood up in 

 the boat and fired, missing him. Not accustomed to 

 fire with a rifle while standing up in such a tottlisb craft, 

 it was impossible to hold my gun steady. The deer 

 bounded off a few rods, then stopped, threw up his head 

 and began to whistle, or, as one not familiar with a 

 hunter's vocabulary would say, snort He had evidently 

 never seen a man or heard a rifle-shot before, and did 

 not know what to make of us. I quietly loaded up in 

 full view, and asked John if he would like to try a shot. 

 Wiser than I had been, he stepped out on the marsh 

 where there was solid standing-ground, and, taking deli- 

 berate aim, fired. The deer gave a few bounds and fell 

 dead. He was full a hundred and sixty yards off, yet 

 John had put the bullet within an inch of his heart. 



As we emerged once more into the lake, the column 

 of blue smoke, ascending through the quiet air beside 

 the white tent standing alone on the distant point, 

 looked cheerful amid the solitude, and the more so 

 after having been locked in by the fir-trees on that vast 



