above the point where he had entered the water, but to do this he had to
swim against the current and he soon found that he hadn't the strength
to do this. Then he turned and headed for a point down the Big River.
This made the swimming easier, for the current helped him instead of
hindering him.

Even then he could feel his strength leaving him. Had he escaped those
hounds and the terrible hunters only to be drowned in the Big River?
This new fear gave him more strength for a little while. But it did not
last long. He was three fourths of the way across the Big River but
still that other shore seemed a long distance away. Little by little
hope died in the heart of Lightfoot the Deer. He would keep on just as
long as he could and then,--well, it was better to drown than to be torn
to pieces by dogs.

Just as Lightfoot felt that he could not take another stroke and that
the end was at hand, one foot touched something. Then, all four feet
touched. A second later he had found solid footing and was standing with
the water only up to his knees. He had found a little sand bar out in
the Big River. With a little gasp of returning hope, Lightfoot waded
along until the water began to grow deeper again. He had hoped that he
would be able to wade ashore, but he saw now that he would have to swim
again.

So for a long time he remained right where he was. He was so tired that
he trembled all over, and he was as frightened as he was tired. He knew
that standing out there in the water he could be seen for a long
distance, and that made him nervous and fearful. Supposing a hunter on
the shore he was trying to reach should see him. Then he would have no
chance at all, for the hunter would simply wait for him and shoot him as
he came out of the water.

But rest he must, and so he stood for a long time on the little sand bar
in the Big River. And little by little he felt his strength returning.

CHAPTER XXIII

LIGHTFOOT FINDS A FRIEND

As Lightfoot rested, trying to recover his breath, out there on the
little sand bar in the Big River, his great, soft, beautiful eyes
watched first one bank and then the other. On the bank he had left, he
could see two black-and-white specks moving about, and across the water
came the barking of dogs. Those two specks were the hounds who had
driven him into the Big River. They were barking now, instead of baying.
Presently a brown form joined the black-and-white specks. It was a
hunter dra