FOLLOW/NG 4Jk 
THE DEER^ 
the heavy mists hung low and the 
night smells still clung to the first 
fallen leaves, moving swift and silent 
through the chill fragrant mistiness 
of the lowlands, eye and ear alert for 
every sign, and face set to the heights 
where the deer were waiting. Noon 
found me miles away on the hills, 
munching my crust thankfully in a 
sunny opening of the woods, with 
a brook's music tinkling among the 
mossy stones at my feet, and the 
gorgeous crimson and green and gold 
of the hillside stretching down and 
away, like a vast Oriental rug of a 
giant's weaving, to the flash and blue 
gleam of the distant sea. And every- 
where — Nature's last subtle touches 
77 
STILL HUNTING 
