FOLLOWING 
THE DEER^\ 
were interesting as a camp of gypsies, 
some going off in straggling bands to 
the coast at daybreak, others frogging 
in the streams, and a few solitary, 
patient, philosophical ones joining 
me daily in following the gentle art 
of Izaak Walton. When the sunset 
came and the deep red glowed just 
behind the evergreens, and the gypsy 
bands came home, I would see their 
sentinels posted here and there among 
the hemlock tips — still, dark, grace- 
ful silhouettes etched in sepia against 
the gorgeous afterglow — and hear the 
mothers croaking their ungainly babies 
to sleep in the tree tops. 
Down at one end of the pond a 
brood of young black ducks were 
47 
SUMMER (UOODS 
