Under cover of the woods and
willows we stole down quite close to the water and waited until
they came almost to shore. Then springing from our hiding places
we shouted at them. The beautiful, frightened creatures turned and
went bounding back through the shallow water, splashing it into
clouds of spray, till they sank into the deeper tide and only heads
and stubs of tails could be seen as they swam back to the other
shore. They were nearly all young ones, some of them little fawns.
All day long, at short intervals, companies of them were seen
crossing, some one way, some another. Towards evening two herds
passed the camp at the same time, one to the east of us but a short
distance away, and the other along the foot of the ridge on the
west, not fifty feet from our camp.
On Wednesday, against the strong northwest wind, we succeeded in
making six and a half miles, passing the mouth of the southwest
branch of the Upper George River; and when at 3 P.M. we reached the
head of Long Lake it was too rough to venture on, and we had to go
into camp.
I felt rather desperate that night, and sick with disappointment.
One week of precious time was gone, it was the 16th of the month,
and we were only thirty miles, perhaps a little more, from the
Height of Land.
