[Illustration]

One day, as I was roaming through the thick wood, what should I see but
a male deer, with branching horns, looking up at the blue sky!

I crept back softly to our tent, and told Mr. Brisk what I had seen. He
seized his gun. "What's that you say, Tom?" asked uncle Ralph. "Only
this," said I; "there is a fine fat deer down by the brook; and, as we
are all fond of venison, I think it's a good chance for Mr. Brisk to get
a good shot at him."

"Oh! that's it, is it?" said uncle Ralph, while his eyes flashed with
mischief. "By all means let us kill the deer. Come, Brisk, where's your
gun?"

Mr. Brisk was looking at the barrels and the caps of his gun to see if
all was right; then he said to uncle Ralph, "You and Tom had better stay
here; for too many of us may startle the deer."

"Go on," said uncle Ralph. "Be quick, or you will lose your chance."

Mr. Brisk started for the brook, treading carefully, so as not to make a
noise. No sooner was he gone than uncle Ralph seized me by the collar,
and said, "Now, you young scapegrace, come along with me, and help me
save the life of that deer."

The old gentleman was in earnest. He could not bear to see life
destroyed, whether of bird or beast. He lived on vegetables and fruits,
and believed that the lower animals have souls. We took a by-path to the