will be bloody business if we
kill that deer. We couldn't eat all of it; you wouldn't want to skin
it; I couldn't. You'd get your hands all bloody and the memory of
that beautiful creature would not be pleasant. Therefore I stand for
letting him go."

Burton looked thoughtful. "Well, we might sell it or give it away."

Meanwhile the deer saw us, but seemed not to be apprehensive. Perhaps
it was a thought-reading deer, and knew that we meant it no harm. As
Burton spoke, it turned, silent as a shadow, and running to the crest
of the hill stood for a moment outlined like a figure of bronze
against the sky, then disappeared into the forest. He was so much a
part of nature that the horses gave no sign of having seen him at
all.

At a point a few miles beyond Clinton most of the pack trains turned
sharply to the left to the Fraser River, where the grass was reported
to be much better. We determined to continue on the stage road,
however, and thereafter met but few outfits. The road was by no means
empty, however. We met, from time to time, great blue or red wagons
drawn by four or six horses, moving with pleasant jangle of bells and
the crack of great whips. The drivers looked down at us curiously and
somewhat haughtily from their high seats, as if to say, "We know
where we are going--do you know as much?"

The landscape grew ever wilder, and the foliage each day spring-like.
We were on a high hilly plateau between Hat Creek and the valley of
Lake La Hache. We passed lakes surrounded by ghostly dead trees,
which looked as though the water had poisoned them. There were no
ranches of any extent on these hills. The trail continued to be
filled with tramping miners; several seemed to be without bedding or
food. Some drove little pack animals laden with blankets, and all
walked like fiends, pressing forward doggedly, hour after hour. Many
of them were Italians, and one group which we overtook went along
killing robins for food. They were a merry and dramatic lot, making
the silent forests echo with their chatter.

I headed my train on Ladrone, who led the way with a fine stately
tread, his deep brown eyes alight with intelligence, his sensitive
ears attentive to every word. He had impressed me already by his
learning and gentleness, but when one of my packhorses ran around
him, entangling me in the lead rope, pulling me to the ground, the
final test of his quality came. I expected to be kicked into shreds.
But Ladrone stopp