was lifted high, and it looked wonderingly at the people, as if
not knowing the meaning, and too innocent to feel fear. Ben drew up
his rifle, for it was a tempting chance for a delicious breakfast.
But almost instantly he lowered the weapon again.

The fawn was so trusting, so unsuspicious, that a feeling of pity
came to the young hunter. The animal suggested his own little
sister, for it was wandering through the unfriendly woods, with
none to protect it from cruel enemies.

"Go," whispered Ben; "I haven't the heart to harm you; I will starve
first."

"Remember the result of the shot yesterday," said his mother
warningly. "We are in too much peril to increase it."

The lad advanced along the path, and every one of the company
smiled at the fawn, when it stood motionless, staring until they
were almost to it. Then the timid creature turned nimbly and trotted
over the trail, its head so high that, as it turned it from side
to side, it saw every thing done by the strange beings following.

Had the situation been less serious, Ben would have had some sport
with the lovely creature, but he dared not give it much attention.
It continued trotting a short way, and then sprang gracefully aside
among the trees, leaving no scent on the leaves by which the most
highly trained hound could trace it.

A little way beyond they came upon the largest stream seen since
leaving the mountains east of the Susquehanna. It was a dozen feet