The Whitetail Deer 85 



Not the faintest splash betrayed the work of the 

 paddler. The boat glided stealthily alongshore, 

 the glare of the lantern bringing out for one mo- 

 ment every detail of the forest growth on the 

 banks, which the next second vanished into abso- 

 lute blackness. Several times we saw muskrats 

 swimming across the lane of light cut by the lan- 

 tern through the darkness, and two or three times 

 their sudden plunging and splashing caused my 

 heart to leap. Once when we crossed the lake 

 we came upon a loon floating buoyantly right out 

 in the middle of it. It stayed until we were within 

 ten yards, so that I could see the minute outlines 

 of the feathers and every movement of the eye. 

 Then it swam off, but made no cry. At last, while 

 crossing the mouth of a bay we heard a splashing 

 sound among the lilies inshore, which even my 

 untrained ears recognized as different from any 

 of the other noises we had yet heard, and a jarring 

 motion of the paddle showed that the paddler 

 wished me to be on the alert. Without any 

 warning the course of the boat was suddenly 

 changed, and I was aware that we were moving 

 stern foremost. Then we swung around, and I 

 could soon make out that we were going down 

 the little bay. The forest-covered banks nar- 

 rowed ; then the marsh at the end was lighted up, 

 and on its hither edge, knee-deep among the water- 

 lilies, appeared the figure of a yearling buck still 



