ion. A minute later a magnificent buck, swinging his antlers
proudly, dashed into the pond, and stooped his small red tongue to
drink, licking in the water greedily with a soft, lapping sound.

Neal silently cocked his rifle, almost choking with excitement; then
paused for a few seconds to brace up and control the nervous terrors
which had possessed him, before his eye singled out the spot in the
deer's neck which his bullet must pierce. But he found his operations
further delayed; for the animal suddenly lifted its head, scattered
feathery spray from its horns and hoofs, and retired a few steps up the
bank.

In its former position every part of its body was visibly outlined under
the silver light of the jack. Now a successful shot would be difficult,
though it might be managed. The boy leaned slightly forward, trying to
hold his gun dead straight and take cool aim, when the most curious of
all the curious sensations he had felt this night ran through him,
seeming to scorch like electricity from his scalp to his feet.

From the stand which the deer had taken, its body was in shadow. All
that the sportsman could discern were two living, glowing eyes,
staring--so it appeared to him--straight into his, like starry
search-lights, as if they read the death-purpose in the boy's heart, and
begged him to desist.

It was all over with Neal Farrar's shot. He lowered his rifle, while the
speech, which could no longer be repressed, rattled in his throat before
it broke forth.

"I'll go crazy if I don't speak!" he cried.

At the first word the buck went scudding like the wind through the
forest, doubtless vowing by the shades of his ancestors that he never
would stand to gaze at a light again.

"And--and--I can't shoot the thing while it's looking at me like that!"
the boy blurted out.

"You dunderhead! What do you mean?" gasped Cyrus, breaking silence in a
gusty whisper of mingled anger and amusement. "You won't get a chance to
shoot it or anything else now. You've lost us our meat for to-night."

"Well, I couldn't help it," Neal whispered back. "For pity's sake, what
has been moving this canoe? The quiet was enough to set a fellow mad!
And then that buck stared straight at me like a human thing. I could
see nothing but two burning eyes with white rings round them."

"Stuff!" was the American's answer. "He was gazing at the jack, not at
you. He couldn't see an inch of you with that light just over your head.
But it woul