for me to go and see a deer shot over in the water. Maybe I'll get up and walk out there with you, though. I'd like to stretch my legs after having been in that boat for so many days."

Before they parted, then, it was agreed that Hugh and Jack should present themselves at Mr. James's house next morning as near to four o'clock as possible, when they would start to hunt for a deer near Mirror Lake.

CHAPTER III

A MYSTERIOUS WATER MONSTER

It was still black night when Hugh and Jack arrived at Mr. James's, about four o'clock the next morning. He was waiting for them, and, seated on the floor near the stove in the dining-room where he had been eating his breakfast, was an Indian, whom he introduced as Squawitch—"The Sturgeon," as Mr. James explained.

By the time they had left the house the eastern sky had begun to pale, and day was at hand. It promised to be a perfect one. The sky was cloudless and no fog obscured the view. In the east, above the jagged and broken summits of the Pitt River Mountains, the stars were disappearing. The sky was beginning to grow gray and then to flush and glow, each instant becoming brighter. They walked at a brisk pace, at first climbing the hill and then passing along the level lands of the plateau. The three white men walked side by side in advance, and behind them came the Indian, leading three splendid hounds, which from time to time tugged at their chains or whimpered as some scent from the forest met their nostrils. The air was cool, fresh, and exhilarating. A gentle breeze just moved the branches of the great trees, which were far larger than any Hugh or Jack had ever seen.

From the recesses of the tangled forests came the sweet balsamic odors of firs and cedars, mingled with the faint damp smell of decaying vegetation, so characteristic of the forest in all climates. To Jack and Hugh all the trees and all the plants were new. They wondered at the vast size and height of the tree trunks, admired the maples with their large leaves, the thick tangle of underbrush, and beneath all the great ferns, higher than a man's head. They were passing between high walls of foliage, extending far above them on either side. Above was a narrow strip of blue sky and before them the yellow road. Multitudes of bright bits of color appeared along the roadside. The fireweed, familiar everywhere in the mountains, shone like a tongue of flame against a background of green. Here and there, in wet springy places, the foxglove nodded its tall spikes of red or white blooms; and besides this there were many other flowers, all beautiful, but not known by name to the travellers. One beautiful white low-growing flower attracted Jack's attention, and he dropped on his knees to examine it, declaring that it must be some sort of dogwood, so closely did it resemble—except in size—the ordinary white flowering dogwood of the Eastern States. There were also berries of many colors, and in great abundance. Many of these Mr. James named for them as they passed along; salmon berries, red or yellow, blackberries, green and red, and blueberries of several kinds; the purple salal, the velvet berry, the scarlet and as yet unripe panicles of the elder, and the brilliant fruit of the umbrella plant were all there, and were constantly inviting them to stop and admire their beauties.

To Mr. James, who had lived in the country for many years, these sights were commonplace. To Hugh and Jack they were all remarkable and each one seemed to demand an explanation. But there was no time for that. Mr. James and the Indian had set their hearts on getting a deer, and it was necessary to step briskly to reach the hunting grounds before the sun had dried off the moisture and "killed" the scent. They walked so fast that there was little opportunity for conversation. Nevertheless, Jack found time to ask some questions.

"I can see, Mr. James," Jack said, "by looking into this timber, how impossible it would be to hunt here in the way in which we do in the Eastern States or on the plains. In the first place, the underbrush is so thick that one could not see any distance; and, in the second place, it would be impossible to go along without making so much noise that the deer would hear one."

"That's precisely the fact," said Mr. James, "and therefore, as I told you last night, the only way in which we can get deer here is by putting dogs on the track. There are many places on the islands of the Gulf, where the country is open enough so that one can hunt on foot quietly, as we used to do where I lived back in Canada, with a good prospect of getting an occasional shot, but that cannot be done here. Then, too, there are plenty of places along the coast where the deer come down from the mountains to feed on the grass near the edge of the salt water, or to eat the dulse,—a sort of seaweed thrown up by the sea,—and where they can be shot from a canoe. The Indians kill a great many in this way; but, except in winter, when they are driven down from the mountains by the heavy snows, that is not a method that is very certain."

"If we make a canoe trip along the coast, as we were talking of doing, there might be a chance of getting deer along the shore, then?" queried Jack.

"Yes, you are very likely to do that," said Mr. James, "and quite likely, also, to see a bear in such a situation; for the bears often come down to the shore there, to feed on the seaweed, or to go along the beach hunting for fish or food of any kind that may have been thrown up by the sea. Almost all the animals in this country, certainly all carnivorous animals, depend more or less on the beach for their living; and often in the morning, if you go along the shore, you will see the tracks of bears, foxes, wolves, deer, and perhaps two or three other species of animals that have gone along during the night. The beach is a pretty good hunting ground; and if you make your proposed trip you will find, all along, trails leading down from the hills to the water."

For some little time Hugh had been walking behind the others, by the side of the Indian, and trying to talk to him in sign language; but, though occasionally the Indian seemed to comprehend his gestures, it was evident that he was not a sign talker. Presently Hugh spoke to Mr. James, and said: "I like these dogs you have here, Mr. James; they remind me of the hounds we used to run foxes down in Kentucky when I was a boy. Two of them are as handsome hounds as I ever saw; and the other one, while not so good a hound, looks as if he were smart enough to keep up his end of the running all the time."

"You have hit it exactly, Mr. Johnson," said their owner. "Each of these dogs has its good points. Captain and Dinah are pretty nearly perfect to look at. Captain has the best nose of any hound I ever saw, and a voice like a trumpet. Dinah's nose is not quite so good as Captain's, but she is considerably faster. Wallace, as you say, does not look much like a hound, but he is fast and the very best fighter in the lot, and he is smart enough to know a good part of the time which way the deer is going, and to cut in ahead of the others and take the trail; and often he catches the deer alone. He is a great fighter; and if he once gets hold of a deer, he will surely kill it. I had the dogs out on one of the inlets last year, and was in a canoe on the water, myself, and I saw Wallace overtake a deer, running along a narrow ledge on the face of the cliff, sixty feet above the water. Wallace caught up with the deer, grabbed him and threw him off the cliff. He didn't let go, and the two fell into the water below. I have always thought that Wallace would have been killed if I had not been