riads of windows lighted for a fete. Once the groan of a nighthawk
fell out of the upper air with a sound like that of a stone striking in
water. I thought little of the deer Tip was after. His only aim in life
was the one he got with a gun barrel. I had forgotten all but the beauty
of the scene. Suddenly Tip roused me by laying his hand to the gunwale
and gently shaking the dugout. In the dark distance, ahead of us, I
could hear the faint tinkle of dripping water. Then I knew a deer was
feeding not far away and that the water was falling from his muzzle.
When I opened my jack we were close upon him. His eyes gleamed. I shot
high above the deer that went splashing ashore before I had pulled my
trigger. After the roar of the gun had got away, in the distant timber,
Tip mentioned a place abhorred of all men, turned and paddled for the
landing.

'Could 'a killed 'im with a club,' said he snickering. 'Guess he must a
looked putty tall didn't he?'

'Why?' I asked.

'Cos ye aimed into the sky,' said he. 'Mebbe ye thought he was a bird.'

'My hand trembled a little,' said I.

''Minds me of Bill Barber,' he said in a half-whisper, as he worked his
paddle, chuckling with amusement.

'How's that?' I asked.

'Nothin' safe but the thing he shoots at,' said he. 'Terrible bad shot.
Kills a cow every time he goes huntin'.'

Uncle Eb was stirring the fire when we came whispering into camp, and
Gerald lay asleep under the blankets.

'Willie couldn't hit the broadside of a bam,' said Tip. 'He don't take
to it nat'ral.'

'Killin' an' book learnin' don't often go together,' said Uncle Eb.

I turned in by the side of Gerald and Uncle Eb went off with Tip for
another trip in the dugout. The night was chilly but the fire flooded
our shanty with its warm glow. What with the light, and the boughs under
us, and the strangeness of the black forest we got little sleep. I heard
the gun roar late in the night, and when I woke again Uncle Eb and Tip
Taylor were standing over the fire in the chilly grey of the morning.
A dead deer hung on the limb of a tree near by. They began dressing it
while Gerald and I went to the spring for water, peeled potatoes, and
got the pots boiling. After a hearty breakfast we packed up, and were
soon on the road again, reaching Blueberry Lake before noon. There we
hired a boat of the lonely keeper of the reservoir, found an abandoned
camp with an excellent bark shanty and made ourselves at home.

That even