cture from it a leather of a peculiarly
soft character, which retains that quality after being wet,--instead of
turning hard, as is the case with that manufactured from other
deerskins. A remarkable feature of the wapiti is that the horns differ
in form almost as greatly as do those of the branches of trees, no two
specimens being found with them exactly alike.

The Karjacou, or Virginian Deer.

The most graceful of the deer tribe, the karjacou, scours in large herds
across the prairies, frequently entering the haunts of man. Yet so
easily is it scared that it takes to flight at the very appearance of a
human being. Curiously enough, however, it will again return to its
favourite feeding-grounds, even though the hunter's rifle may lay low
many of the herd. It is about the size of the fallow-deer, and of a
light brown hue. Its horns are slender, and have numerous branches on
the interior sides, but are destitute of brow antlers.

Let us watch a herd startled by our approach. Away they spring, leaping
into the air, turning their heads in every direction to ascertain the
cause of their alarm, and then rush off at full speed; but in a short
time, if they are not followed, we may see them return, especially as
night draws on, and crouch down in their accustomed sleeping-places.
Should a salt lake be near, they will come in vast numbers to lick up
with their tongues the saline particles adhering to the surrounding
stones, where the salt has crystallised from the evaporation of the
water.

They are at all times thirsty, and they require constant draughts of
pure water, to obtain which they are sure to visit the nearest stream or
spring as night is about to close over the scene. Wherever the
tenderest herbage grows upon the plain, there the karjacou comes to crop
it during summer. In winter he finds an abundant supply of food from
the buds and berries, or fallen fruits; or, when snow is on the ground,
he eats the string moss hanging in masses from the trees. He willingly
takes to the water, and will cross a lake or broad river, swimming at a
rapid rate with his whole body submerged, his head alone appearing above
the surface; thus he will often baffle his pursuers, even though they
may follow him with a boat. He has been known, indeed, when
hard-pressed near the sea-coast, to plunge into the ocean, and buffeting
the waves, to make his way far from the land, rather than be captured.

His flesh affords the Indian a