om her eyes the charm that dazzled them.

I followed a little way, watching every move, till she turned again, and
for a longer time stared steadfastly at the light. It was harder this
time to break away from its power. She came nearer two or three times,
halting between dainty steps to stare and wonder, while her eyes blazed
into mine. Then, as she faltered irresolutely, I reached forward and
closed the lantern, leaving lake and woods in deeper darkness than
before. At the sudden release I heard her plunge out of the water; but
a moment later she was moving nervously among the trees, trying to stamp
herself up to the courage point of coming back to investigate. And
when I flashed my lantern at the spot she threw aside caution and came
hurriedly down the bank again.

Later that night I heard other footsteps in the pond, and opened my
lantern upon three deer, a doe, a fawn and a large buck, feeding at
short intervals among the lily pads. The buck was wild; after one look
he plunged into the woods, whistling danger to his companions. But the
fawn heeded nothing, knew nothing for the moment save the fascination
of the wonderful glare out there in the darkness. Had I not shut off
the light, I think he would have climbed into the canoe in his intense
wonder.

I saw the little fellow again, in a curious way, a few nights later.
A wild storm was raging over the woods. Under its lash the great trees
writhed and groaned; and the "voices"--that strange phenomenon of the
forest and rapids--were calling wildly through the roar of the storm and
the rush of rain on innumerable leaves. I had gone out on the old wood
road, to lose myself for a little while in the intense darkness and
uproar, and to feel again the wild thrill of the elements. But the night
was too dark, the storm too fierce. Every few moments I would blunder
against a tree, which told me I was off the road; and to lose the road
meant to wander all night in the storm-swept woods. So I went back for
my lantern, with which I again started down the old cart path, a little
circle of wavering, jumping shadows about me, the one gray spot in the
midst of universal darkness.

I had gone but a few hundred yards when there was a rush--it was not the
wind or the rain--in a thicket on my right. Something jumped into the
circle of light. Two bright spots burned out of the darkness, then two
more; and with strange bleats a deer came close to me with her fawn. I
stood stockstill, w