Then things again assumed their usual hunter's attitude, and
after sitting for another hour we paddled over to our sail-boat
and started down the lake for the house. It was blowing pretty
hard, and the sky was blacker than Pittsburg. The skipper said
something about a squall, but it didn't hit us until we were
about two hundred yards from the dock. Then we got it, and got
it good. It was buttercups and daisies. Thunder, lightning, rain,
and all the side dishes. I'd have given eight dollars to have
seen a cable car coming along about that time. The skipper yelled
to me to ease off the larboard stay. Now, I might know something
about mince pie, but a larboard stay is not my long and hasty.
Then some one pushed me aside, and succeeded in putting things
in such excellent shape that we ran plumb through the dock. It
was great!

That night we sat around, and Sarpo and his sons told some funny
stories. My, but they were to the saddings! I told one of my best,
and nobody filtered but Teddy.

The next morning at five we took the dogs and started out after
deer. They have what they call run-ways or deer passes, and the
deer always go the same route. They ought to have better sense,
although as far as I am concerned they are perfectly safe. They
put me on one of the passes, behind a lot of underbrush. Well,
I sat and sat until I went to sleep, but I slept with one eye
open. Deadwood Dick and all the great scouts and trappers had the
one-eye-open habit. I was awakened by hearing something crack,
and there standing about twenty feet away with its side turned
to me was a deer. It must have belonged to the fair sex, as it
had no horns. Talk about shaking! I would have shaken my best