Deer-Hunting on the An Sable. 253 



Next morning I was at my place, still unsubdued and hopeful. I 

 heard a shot fired on the river below me ; I heard the baying of the 

 dogs, and listened to it as it died away in the direction of some other 

 run-way. But I watched steadily ; and as I watched, I saw the brush 

 about some cedar roots open, and out there sprang into the shallow 

 water a noble buck. He was a stalwart, thick-set fellow ; his legs 

 were short and compact, his fur was dark in its winter hue, and his 

 antlers glistened above his head. He bore himself proudly as he 

 stood in the water and turned to listen for the bay of the dogs he 

 had outrun. I hesitated a moment, doubtful if I should let him get 

 into the stream and swim down, or shoot at him as he stood. I chose 

 the latter, aimed quietly and confidently, and fired. He pitched for- 

 ward, the current seized him, and he floated down with it and past 



me, dead. In eight minutes, by my watch, Mr. M 's Jack came 



to the bank, at the spot where the buck had come in, and howled 

 grievously over the lost scent. He was worn out and battered, and 

 he came to me gladly when I called him. I had brought some 

 luncheon down with me that morning, and I must confess that I was 

 weak enough to give Jack every bit of it. 



That afternoon, when I reached camp, I found that I was the last 

 to come in, and that my buck had already been seen and his size 

 noted. I was received with acclamations, and a proposition to gird 

 me, as a measure of affected precaution, with the hoops of a flour- 

 barrel was made and partly carried into execution. There were 

 sung, moreover, sundry snatches of the forester's chorus from "As 

 You Like It": 



"What shall he have that killed the deer?" 



Of the Au Sable as a navigable river, I am pained to state that 

 I cannot speak in a way calculated to allure people thither for the 

 purpose of sailing upon it. Three of us were induced by our back- 

 woodsman to embark upon a raft and make a run of fifteen miles to 

 Thompson's. We did so, and failed to acquire upon the journey any 

 marked prejudice in favor of that particular form of navigation. Ce- 

 dars growing at the water's edge have their roots more or less under- 

 mined, and some of them fall gradually outward over the river, their 

 branches hanging in the current and becoming denuded of their foli- 

 age, or dying. The trunk or stem of the tree is in some cases parallel 



