After we reached the brook we went along the bank, but were soon compelled to leave it owing to the impenetrable tangles of alders, around which we had to circle.  The doctor stopped to show me some tracks of otters, and then we came to a place where the bank was steep, and a little smooth path was worn down upon its face, leading into the water.

“An otter slide,” he explained.  “They run up the bank and toboggan down into the water, again and again.  It is a sort of game they play.”

“How I should like to see them!” I exclaimed.

He put a finger up to his lips, enjoining silence, and led the way towards a deep pool.  Then he turned and lifted up his hand.  We remained motionless, hidden behind a rank growth of alders and reeds, and I suddenly saw a little black head upon the water and caught the gleam of a pair of bright eyes.  Then came a splash, and the ruffled water smoothed over.  We waited, but never saw him again.

“That was a big, old, dog otter,” said the doctor.

We continued on our winding way, finding a very few tracks of does and fawns, but occasionally we came across the broad imprint of a big stag.

“He must be living somewhere around here,” whispered my companion.

He looked very alert now, noting every sign and stopping to investigate the waving of grasses and the motions of leaves.  We peered in every tangle of bush and shrub, and moved as silently as we possibly could.

We had slowly been following the stream for nearly an hour, and were on the edge of the brook when the doctor quickly knelt down, and of course I followed his example.  He pointed towards some alders ahead of us.

“See those tops moving?” he whispered.

“I see them bending with the wind,” I replied, in the same low voice.

“There is no wind here,” he said.  “It must be a stag or a bear in there.”

We kept on watching and, Aunt Jennie, my heart was beating so with the excitement of it that I could hardly keep still.  But I insist that I was not the least bit scared.  I rather think that Dr. Grant impresses one as a man who could take care of bears or anything else that might threaten one.  Presently, above the green leaves, appeared something that looked like stout, reddish branches.  We could see them only for an instant, and then they went down again.

“It’s a big, old stag,” whispered the doctor.

“What shall we do?” I asked.

“I am going to give you a shot,” he said.

“I shouldn’t dare.  I am sure I should miss,” I answered.

“You must try.  You know that you are the lucky one.  I am going to leave you here with the rifle and I shall crawl back a little way.  If we went on he would jump away on the other side of the alders and that would be the last of him.  I am going off to the right, and then I will walk slowly towards him.  The river is shallow here, and it is the only open spot.  He will surely jump in it, and probably stop for a second to see what is coming, for he won’t smell me.  You will have a fine chance at him from here.”