354 THE DEER OF AMERICA. 
Grandmother, — we must give her something, or we have no 
luck.’ 
“‘To the rocks in question are attached a superstitious attribute 
of having the power of influencing the good or bad fortune of the 
hunter. They are supposed to be the enchanted form of some 
genius of the forest ; and few Indians, on a hunting mission up 
the lake, care to pass them without first propitiating the spirit of 
the rocks, by depositing a small offering of a piece of money, to- 
bacco, or biscuit. 
“* That will do, Capten; anything a’most will do;’ said Joe, 
as one cut off a small piece of tobacco, and another threw a 
small piece of biscuit or potato to the rock. ‘* Now you would n’t 
b’lieve, Capten, that when you come back you find that all gone. 
I give you my word that’s true; we always find what we leave 
gone.” Whereupon Joe commenced a series of illustrative yarns, 
showing the dangers of omitting to visit the ‘Grandmother,’ 
and how Indians who had passed her had shot themselves in the 
woods, or had broken their legs between rocks, or had violent 
pains attack them shortly after passing the rocks, and on return- 
ing and making the presents had immediately recovered. 
“Tt looks as if it were going to be calm to-night, Joe,’ said 
I, as we neared the head of the lake. ‘ Which side are we to 
camp on? Those long, mossy swamps which run back into the 
woods on the western side look likely resorts for Moose.’ 
““¢ No place handy for camp on that side,” said Joe; ‘ grand 
place fur Moose though. Guess if no luck to-morrow mornin’ 
we cross there; I got notion of trying this side first.’ And so 
having beached the canoe, turned her over, and thrown her into 
the bushes secure from observation, we made up our bundles, 
apportioning the loads, and followed Joe into the forest, now 
darkened by the rapidly closing shades of evening. In a very 
short time the dripping branches discharging their heavy showers 
upon usas we brushed against them, and the saturated moss and 
rank fern made us most uncomfortably wet; and as the difficul- 
ties of traveling increased as the daylight receded, and the tight, 
wet moccasin is not much guard to the feet coming in painful 
contact with unseen stump or rock, we were not sorry when the 
weary tramp up the long, wooded slope was ended, and a faint 
light through the trees in the front showed that we had arrived 
at the edge of the barrens. ‘It’s no use trying to make call 
to-night, that sartin,’ said Joe; ‘ could n’t see Moose if he come. 
Oh, dear me, I sorry for this weather. Come, Jem, we try make 
