THE CHASE. 403 



the lake. " There," said Stockton, " is tlie first full realization I 

 have ever seen of Landseer's glorious picture, ■ The JNIonarch of 

 the Glen.' " And so it was. The ideal of the great artist stood 

 before us in all his magnificence, an actual verity. There stood 

 the monarch of the forest in the border of the quiet lake, where 

 the deep solitude is rarely broken by invading man, not dreaming 

 there were enemies before him more dangerous than those behind, 

 of escape from which he now felt assured. "■ ffist" said the 

 Indian, and the word fairly hissed between his teeth, " he come 

 here straight," and at the same instant the deer plumped into 

 the deep water and swam directly towards ns. No one moved, 

 but if truth must be told, there was hard breathing in that canoe 

 as the deer rapidly approached us. When he was within fifty 

 yards or less, the Indian rose to his feet, gave a loud whoop, and 

 dashed his paddle into the water. At the same instant the deer 

 turned for shore, and swam like a race-ho'.vse. That Indian was 

 too economical to allow the deer to be killed without a race. The 

 canoe fairly flew through the water, not directly after the deer, 

 but around him, so as to cut off his retreat, and in a time too 

 short to be reckoned in the excitement of the moment, the deer 

 was again turned into the lake. The race was short. I had 

 picked up the rifle the instant the Indian whooped, and held it 

 ready. The deer swam high, the top of his hips and part of his 

 neck always out of water ; still he constantly rose and settled in 

 the water as he progressed. When within about twenty-five 

 yards of the deer, the Indian turned the bow of the canoe out of 

 the line of the chase, and said, " Shoot." I needed no second 

 bidding. I aimed to strike him in the head, just back of the 

 antlers, but as I pulled, the head settled, — we must always find 

 an excuse for a bad miss, — and the ball passed between the 

 antlers, very close, of course, and struck the water just ahead "of 

 him. Thanks to the Springfield breech-loader, the reprieve was 

 short. The next time I held for the neck, and the ball crashed 

 through it, and came out just so as to miss the under jaw. The 

 deer dove, as you have often seen a muskrat dive, throwing the 

 hind parts considerably out of water, owing to the momentum. 

 Still the Indian was well up to his work. With a great exertion 

 he shot the canoe to the spot before the deer had sunk below the 

 reach of his paddle, which he dipped beneath the antlers, and 

 raised him up so I could reach them. The Indian was master of 

 the situation, for so long as he followed the deer directly, my 

 friend was always in the way, so I could not shoot, but if the 



