On Keeping Still 



their table; but for more than a week they had 

 tasted no meat, and they were very hungry. The 

 deer were wild as hawks, they assured me. They 

 had hunted every day; but because of the game's 

 wildness and the dry weather, which made the 

 leaves rustle loudly underfoot, it had proved im- 

 possible to approach near enough for a shot all 

 of which made me think that, if you want to see 

 game, you should leave your gun at home. I had 

 met about a dozen deer that day; most of them 

 were within easy range, and a few of them stood 

 with questioning eyes while a man might have 

 made ready his camera and taken a picture of 

 them. 



The very next morning, and within a mile of the 

 hunters' camp, I witnessed a familiar but fasci- 

 nating display of deer nature. At sunrise I ap- 

 proached a bog, bordering a stream where a few 

 good trout might be found, and on the edge of the 

 opening stood a doe and her well-grown fawn, not 

 twenty yards away. The fawn, a little buck with 

 the nubs of his first antlers showing, threw up his 

 head as I appeared, and in the same instant I 

 dropped to the ground behind a mossy log. No 

 whistle or sound of alarm followed the action; 

 so I scraped a mat of moss from the log, put it on 

 for a bonnet, and cautiously raised my head. 



The old doe was still feeding; the buck stood 

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