erything should be
in readiness for the "float." As soon as the supper was finished, he
brought a little iron "Jack," mounted upon a standard, and proceeded to
fix this upright in the bow of the boat. Behind this he placed a square
of sheet iron, so that a deer, dazzled by the light of the blazing pine,
would see nothing behind it, while the occupants of the boat could see
everything ahead without being blinded by the light, of which they could
see nothing. Then he fixed a knob of tallow upon the forward sight of
Mr. Balfour's gun, so that, projecting in front of the sheet iron
screen, it would be plainly visible and render necessary only the
raising of the breech to the point of half-hiding the tallow, in order
to procure as perfect a range as if it were broad daylight.

All these preparations were familiar to Mr. Balfour, and, loading his
heavy shot-gun with a powerful charge, he waited impatiently for the
darkness.

At nine o'clock, Jim said it was time to start, and, lighting his
torch, he took his seat in the stern of the boat, and bade Mr. Balfour
take his place in the bow, where a board, placed across the boat, made
him a comfortable seat. The boys, warmly wrapped, took their places
together in the middle of the boat, and, clasping one another's hands
and shivering with excitement, bade good-night to Mr. Benedict, who
pushed them from the shore.

The night was still, and Jim's powerful paddle urged the little craft up
the stream with a push so steady, strong, and noiseless, that its
passengers might well have imagined that the unseen river-spirits had it
in tow. The torch cast its long glare into the darkness on either bank,
and made shadows so weird and changeful that the boys imagined they saw
every form of wild beast and flight of strange bird with which pictures
had made them familiar. Owls hooted in the distance. A wild-cat screamed
like a frightened child. A partridge, waked from its perch by a flash of
the torch, whirred off into the woods.

At length, after paddling up the stream for a mile, they heard the
genuine crash of a startled animal. Jim stopped and listened. Then came
the spiteful stroke of a deer's forefeet upon the leaves, and a whistle
so sharp, strong and vital, that it thrilled every ear that heard it. It
was a question, a protest, a defiance all in one; but not a sign of the
animal could be seen. He was back in the cover, wary and watching, and
was not to be tempted nearer by the light.