One Deer. 177 



and one afternoon when we were almost 

 out of venison in camp I suggested to 

 Dick that it would be the proper thing 

 for us to make a trip in the evening to 

 this place. 



The wood for the camp-fire was cut and 

 piled at a convenient distance from the 

 smouldering back-log all ready for a glo- 

 rious blaze on our return, and just before 

 sundown I took my place in the bow of 

 our little boat with the Ballard rifle across 

 my knees, while Dick took the stern with 

 the paddle. 



Long shadows were reaching out from 

 the big pines and hemlocks on the west 

 shore, the valleys were already in dark- 

 ness, and the long red rays of the fast 

 setting sun streaming through the tree- 

 tops illumined the rest of the forest with 

 a hazy evening light. Great tree trunks 

 lay partly sunken in the dark clear water, 

 their arms reaching grimly out, and quiet 

 reigned over all, the paddle in Dick's 

 skilled hand making not the slightest 

 sound. 



As we silently glided along, a loon far 



