CRUST AND LAKE HUNTING. 529 
swam back and forth, each time coming slowly nearer me, 
until they were so close that I could see the shine of their 
dark eyes, and the white rings about their necks. 
Soon the dogs open musically on, far up on the deep- 
. wooded side of Dug Mountain. It is a short and spirited 
race, and while I lie abstractedly tracing the reverberations 
of their voices among the mountains—a splash! My heart 
leaps. There! The deer has taken water at the southern 
end of the lake. See, he-swims already! It’s a noble fellow! 
Ha! he is not coming for the open water! We shan’t get 
him! He swims across that narrow cove—now he’s out! 
See him shake the drops from his tawny hair, as he walks 
deliberately into the woods again ! 
There come the dogs! Old Turk, with his face half white 
and black, stands upon the shore an instant, snuffing over 
the water. In he plunges! What a bold and rapid swimmer! 
He swims out into the lake towards us. The trick has told 
—he has lost the deer. George puts out in the boat to meet 
him. He takes him in and rows towards where the buck 
went out. He has nearly reached the shore—the dog stands 
with his fore paws on the edge of the boat, snuffing the air. 
There! he plunges—he has caught the scent again, and 
away he goes, with eager yells, on the track. 
He is off, and Master George does not return to us with 
the boat. The rascal is out of our reach, and is determined 
now, in spite of me, to carry out his purpose. Knowing 
that he can invent some excuse which will satisfy Piscator, I 
swallow my anger; for this is his chance, and if he chooses 
to lose it, well and good. In half an hour the deer is back, 
takes the water on the other side of the lake, and makes for 
the second island. Master George is off, and pulling with 
his best might and skill to cut the deer off from the shore. 
He has started too soon; the deer has seen him, and turns. 
They both disappear behind the point of the island. 
The audacious rascal! One of us should have been in that 
34 
