As we approached these ponds, the river became broad and shallow.  Natural meadows, covered with tall grass and weeds, stretching away on either hand.  When we came to this portion of the river, the oars were shipped, and our boat-men took their seats in the stern with their paddles.  Smith was in the bow of one boat, and Spalding in that of the other, each with rifle in hand, preparatory to the slaughter of a deer, to provide us with venison.  It was arranged that the marksman who fired and failed to secure his game, should change places with the one behind him, and that thus the rotation should go on, till we should bring down a deer.  We knew that we should see numbers of them feeding along the margin of the stream, and upon the natural meadows that skirted the shore.  The stream was winding and tortuous, and at no time could we see more than five-and-twenty rods in advance of us, so crooked is its course.

We were moving up the stream cautiously and silently; the boatman who had charge of the craft in which were Smith and myself, seated in the stern, paddling, and Smith himself seated in the bow, with rifle in hand, ready for anything that might turn up.  As the boat rounded a point, a deer started out from among the reeds on the right, and went dashing and snorting across the river directly in front of the boat, and five or six rods ahead, the water being only about two feet in depth.  Smith blazed away at him; where the ball went, Mercy knows; but the deer dashed forward with accelerated speed, and a louder whistle, and went crashing up the hill-side.  Smith acknowledged to a severe attack of the Buck fever.  It was now my turn to take the next shot; and changing places with Smith, we went ahead.  In ten minutes a chance to try my skill occurred.  But it was a long shot, the game was “on the wing,” and I had no better success than did my friend.  The deer only increased the length of his bounds, and he too went plunging through the old woods, snorting in astonishment, and huge affright at what he had seen and heard.

Our boat now fell back, and Spalding and the Doctor took the lead.  In a short time, a deer was discovered feeding just ahead of us on the lily pads along the shore.  The boatman paddled silently up to within eight or ten rods of him.  Spalding sighted him long and, as he averred, carefully with his rifle.  The deer fed and fed on, and we waited anxiously to hear the crack of the rifle, and see the deer go down; but still the boat glided on unnoticed by the animal that was feeding in unsuspecting security.  At length he raised his head, threw forward his long ears, gazed for a second intently at his enemies, and then appreciating his danger, snorted like a warhorse and plunged in a seeming desperation of terror towards the shore.  He had ran a few rods when Spalding let drive at him, as he confessed, at random.  The ball went wide of the mark, and the game dashed, with more desperate energy, and whistling and snorting like a locomotive, into the brush that lined the banks.  It was Spalding’s third shot in all his life at a deer, and he insisted, gravely enough, that he did not fire while the game was standing broadside to him, on account of his desire to give the animal a chance for his life.  The truth is, that Spalding had a bad, a very bad attack of the aforesaid Buck fever.