when　the　deer　doubled。　　But；　when　the　doe　had　got　into　the　timber；　she　heard　the　savage　brutes　howling　across　the　meadow。　　（It　is　well　enough；　perhaps；　to　say　that　nobody　offered　to　shoot　the　dogs。）
  The　courage　of　the　panting　fugitive　was　not　gone：　she　was　game　to　the　tip　of　her　high…bred　ears。　　But　the　fearful　pace　at　which　she　had　just　been　going　told　on　her。　　Her　legs　trembled；　and　her　heart　beat　like　a　trip…hammer。　　She　slowed　her　speed　perforce；　but　still　fled　industriously　up　the　right　bank　of　the　stream。　　When　she　had　gone　a　couple　of　miles；　and　the　dogs　were　evidently　gaining　again；　she　crossed　the　broad；　deep　brook；　climbed　the　steep　left　bank；　and　fled　on　in　the　direction　of　the　Mount…Marcy　trail。　　The　fording　of　the　river　threw　the　hounds　off　for　a　time。　　She　knew；　by　their　uncertain　yelping　up　and　down　the　opposite　bank；　that　she　had　a　little　respite：　she　used　it；　however；　to　push　on　until　the　baying　was　faint　in　her　ears；　and　then　she　dropped；　exhausted；　upon　the　ground。
  This　rest；　brief　as　it　was；　saved　her　life。　　Roused　again　by　the　baying　pack；　she　leaped　forward　with　better　speed；　though　without　that　keen　feeling　of　exhilarating　flight　that　she　had　in　the　morning。　It　was　still　a　race　for　life；　but　the　odds　were　in　herfavor；　she　thought。　　She　did　not　appreciate　the　dogged　persistence　of　the　hounds；　nor　had　any　inspiration　told　her　that　the　race　is　not　to　the　swift。
  She　was　a　little　confused　in　her　mind　where　to　go；　but　an　instinct　kept　her　course　to　the　left；　and　consequently　farther　away　from　her　fawn。　　Going　now　slower；　and　now　faster；　as　the　pursuit　seemed　more　distant　or　nearer；　she　kept　to　the　southwest；　crossed　the　stream　again；　left　Panther　Gorge　on　her　right；　and　ran　on　by　Haystack　and　Skylight　in　the　direction　of　the　Upper　Au　Sable　Pond。　　I　do　not　know　her　exact　course　through　this　maze　of　mountains；　swamps；　ravines；　and　frightful　wildernesses。　　I　only　know　that　the　poor　thing　worked　her　way　along　painfully；　with　sinking　heart　and　unsteady　limbs；　lying　down　〃dead　beat〃　at　intervals；　and　then　spurred　on　by　the　cry　of　the　remorseless　dogs；　until；　late　in　the　afternoon；　she　staggered　down　the　shoulder　of　Bartlett；　and　stood　upon　the　shore　of　the　lake。　　If　she　could　put　that　piece　of　water　between　her　and　her　pursuers；　she　would　be　safe。　　Had　she　strength　to　swim　it？
  At　her　first　step　into　the　water　she　saw　a　sight　that　sent　her　back　with　a　bound。　　There　was　a　boat　mid…lake：　two　men　were　in　it。　　One　was　rowing：　the　other　had　a　gun　in　his　hand。　　They　were　looking　towards　her：　they　had　seen　her。　　（She　did　not　know　that　they　had　heard　the　baying　of　hounds　on　the　mountains；　and　had　been　lying　in　wait　for　her　an　hour。）　What　should　she　do？　　The　hounds　were　drawing　near。　　No　escape　that　way；　even　if　she　could　still　run。　　With　only　a　moment's　hesitation　she　plunged　into　the　lake；　and　struck　obliquely　across。　　Her　tired　legs　could　not　propel　the　tired　body　rapidly。　　She　saw　the　boat　headed　for　her。　　She　turned　toward　the　centre　of　the　lake。　　The　boat　turned。　　She　could　hear　the　rattle　of　the　oarlocks。　It　was　gaining　on　her。　　Then　there　was　a　silence。　　Then　there　was　a　splash　of　the　water　just　ahead　of　her；　followed　by　a　roar　round　the　lake；　the　words　〃Confound　it　all！〃　and　a　rattle　of　the　oars　again。　The　doe　saw　the　boat　nearing　her。　　She　turned　irresolutely　to　the　shore　whence　she　came：　the　dogs　were　lapping　the　water；　and　howling　there。　　She　turned　again　to　the　center　of　the　lake。
  The　brave；　pretty　creature　was　quite　exhausted　now。　　In　a　moment　more；　with　a　rush　of　water；　the　boat　was　on　her；　and　the　man　at　the　oars　had　leaned　over　and　caught　her　by　the　tail。
  〃Knock　her　on　the　head　with　that　paddle！〃　he　shouted　to　the　gentleman　in　the　stern。
  The　gentleman　was　a　gentleman；　with　a　kind；　smooth…shaven　face；　and　might　have　been　a　minister　of　some　sort　of　everlasting　gospel。　　He　took　the　paddle　in　his　hand。　　Just　then　the　doe　turned　her　head；　and　looked　at　him　with　her　great；　appealing　eyes。
  〃I　can't　do　it！　my　soul；　I　can't　do　it！〃　and　he　dropped　the　paddle。　〃Oh；　let　her　go！〃
  〃Let　H。　go！〃　was　the　only　response　of　the　guide　as　he　slung　the　deer　round；　whipped　out　his　hunting…knife；　and　made　a　pass　that　severed　her　jugular。
  And　the　gentleman　ate　that　night　of　the　venison。
  The　buck　returned　about　the　middle　of　the　afternoon。　　The　fawn　was　bleating　piteously；　hungry　and　lonesome。　　The　buck　was　surprised。　　He　looked　about　in　the　forest。　　He　took　a　circuit；　and　came　back。　　His　doe　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。　　He　looked　down　at　the　fawn　in　a　helpless　sort　of　way。　　The　fawn　appealed　for　his　supper。　　The　buck　had　nothing　whatever　to　give　his　child；nothing　but　his　sympathy。　　If　he　said　anything；　this　is　what　he　said：　〃I'm　the　head　of　this　family；　but；　really；　this　is　a　novel　case。　　I've　nothing　whatever　for　you。　　I　don't　know　what　to　do。　　I've　the　feelings　of　a　father；　but　you　can't　live　on　them。　　Let　us　travel。〃
  The　buck　walked　away：　the　little　one　toddled　after　him。　　They　disappeared　in　the　forest。
  V
  A　CHARACTER　STUDY
  There　has　been　a　lively　inquiry　after　the　primeval　man。　　Wanted；　a　man　who　would　satisfy　the　conditions　of　the　miocene　environment；　and　yet　would　be　good　enough　for　an　ancestor。　　We　are　not　particular　about　our　ancestors；　if　they　are　sufficiently　remote；　but　we　must　have　something。　　Failing　to　apprehend　the　primeval　man；　science　has　sought　the　primitive　man　where　he　exists　as　a　survival　in　present　savage　races。　　He　is；　at　best；　only　a　mushroom　growth　of　the　recent　period　（came　in；　probably；　with　the　general　raft　of　mammalian　fauna）；　but　he　possesses　yet　some　rudimentary　traits　that　may　be　studied。
  It　is　a　good　mental　exercise　to　try　to　fix　the　mind　on　the　primitive　man　divested　of　all　the　attributes　he　has　acquired　in　his　struggles　with　the　other　mammalian　fauna。　　Fix　the　mind　on　an　orange；　the　ordinary　occupation　of　the　metaphysician：　take　from　it　（without　eating　it）　odor；　color；　weight；　form；　substance；　and　peel；　then　let　the　mind　still　dwell　on　it　as　an　orange。　　The　experiment　is　perfectly　successful；　only；　at　the　end　of　it；　you　haven't　any　mind。　　Better　still；　consider　the　telephone：　take　away　from　it　the　metallic　disk；　and　the　magnetized　iron；　and　the　connecting　wire；　and　then　let　the　mind　run　abroad　on　the　telephone。　　The　mind　won't　come　back。　　I　have　tried　by　this　sort　of　process　to　get　a　conception　of　the　primitive　man。　　I　let　the　mind　roam　away　back　over　the　vast　geologic　spaces；　and　sometimes　fancy　I　see　a　dim　image　of　him　stalking　across　the　terrace　epoch　of　the　quaternary　period。
  But　this　is　an　unsatisfying　pleasure。　　The　best　results　are　obtained　by　studying　the　primitive　man　as　he　is　left　here　and　there　in　our　era；　a　witness　of　what　has　been；　and　I　find　him　most　to　my　mind　in　the　Adirondack　system　of　what　geologists　call　the　Champlain　epoch。　　I　suppose　the　primitive　man　is　one　who　owes　more　to　nature　than　to　the　forces　of　civilization。　　What　we　seek　in　him　are　the　primal　and　original　traits；　unmixed　with　the　sophistications　of　society；　and　unimpaired　by　the　refinements　of　an　artificial　culture。　　He　would　retain　the　primitive　instincts；　which　are　cultivated　out　of　the　ordinary；　commonplace　man。　　I　should　expect　to　find　him；　by　reason　of　an　unrelinquished　kinship；　enjoying　a　special　communion　with　nature；…　…admitted　to　its　mysteries；　understanding　its　moods；　and　able　to　predict　its　vagaries。　　He　would　be　a　kind　of　test　to　us　of　what　we　have　lost　by　our　gregarious　acquisitions。　　On　the　one　hand；　there　would　be　the　sharpness　of　the　senses；　the　keen　instincts　（which　the　fox　and　the　beaver　still　possess）；　the　ability　to　find　one's　way　in　the　pathless　forest；　to　follow　a　trail；　to　circumvent　the　wild　denizens　of　the　woods；　and；　on　the　other　hand；　there　would　be　the　philosophy　of　life　which　the　primitive　man；　with　little　external　aid；　would　evolve　from　original　observation　and　cogitation。　　It　is　our　good　fortune　to　know　such　a　man；　but　it　is　difficult　to　present　him　to　a　scientific　and　caviling　generation。　　He　emigrated　from　somewhat　limited　conditions　in　Vermont；　at　an　early　age；　nearly　half　a　century　ago；　and　sought　freedom　for　his　natural　development　backward　in　the　wilds　of　the　Adirondacks。　　Sometimes　it　is　a　love　of　adventure　and　freedom　that　sends　men　out　of　the　more　civilized　conditions　into　the　less；　sometimes　it　is　a　constitutional　physical　lassitude　which　leads　them　to　prefer　the　rod　to　the　hoe；　the　trap　to　the　sickle；　and　the　society　of　bears　to　town　meetings　and　taxes。　　I　think　that　Old　Mountain　Phelps　had　merely　the　instincts　of　the　primitive　man；　and　never　any　hostile　civilizing　intent　as　to　the　wilderness　into　which　he　plunged。　　Why　should　he　want　to　slash　away　the　forest　and　plow　up　the　ancient　mould；　when　it　is　infinitely　pleasanter　to　roam　about　in　the　leafy　solitudes；　or　sit　upon　a　mossy　log　and　listen　to　the　chatter　of　birds　and　the　stir　of　beasts？　　Are　there　not　trout　in　the　streams；　gum　exuding　from　the　spruce；　sugar　in　the　maples；　honey　in　the　hollow　trees；　fur　on　the　sables；　warmth　in　hickory　logs？　　Will　not　a　few　days'　planting　and　scratching　in　the　〃open〃　yield　potatoes　and　rye？　　And；　if　there　is　steadier　diet　needed　than　venison　and　bear；　is　the　pig　an　expensive　animal？　　If　Old　Phelps　bowed　to　the　prejudice　or　fashion　of　his　age　（since　we