The Portland daily press., 1878-04-06
"The hounds are baying on my track.
o white man, will you send me back2"

uOuuuSs
"The hounds are bayng on my track.
white man, will you send me back2"
In panic frightened animals will always
flee to human kind from the danger of more
savage foes. They always make mistake in
doing so; perhaps the trait is the survival of
an era OF peace on earth: perhaps it is a
| prophecy of the golden age of the future. The
| business OF this age is murder; the slaughter
| of fellow-men, by the wholesale. Hilarious
| poets who have never fired gun write hunt
ing songs,-TS rG la; the good bishops write
war songs,-Ave the Czor.
The huntea doe went down the "open,"
clearing the fences spleneidly, flying along the
stony path. 1t was beautiful sight. But
consider what shot it was! If the deer,
now could only have been caught. No doubt
there were tender-hearted people 10 the val
| ley who would have spared her life, shut her
up in stable, and petted her, Was there
one who would have let her go back to her
| waiting fawn? It is the business of civiliza-
ton to tame or kill.
The doe went on; she left the saw-mill on
Johns Brook to her right; she turned into
wood path; as she approached Slide Brook
she saw boy standing by a tree, with
raised rifle. The dogs were not in sight; but
she could hear them coming down the hill;
there was no time for hesitation; with a tre-
mendous burst of speed she cleared the
stream, and as she touched the bank heard
the ''ping" of cruel rife bullet in the air
above her. The cruel sound gave wings to
| the poor thing. In a moment more she was
in the opening; she leaped into the Travelled
road. Which way? Below her in the wood
| was load of hay; man and boy with
| pitchforks in their hands were running tow
ards her. She turned south, and flew along
the street. The town was up; women and
children ran to the doors and windows; men
snatched their rifles shots were fred at the
big boarding. houses the summer boarders.
who never have anything to do, came out
and cheered; a camp-stool was thrown from
veranda; some young fellows, shooting at
mark in the meadow, saw the flying deer,
and popped away al her; but they were accus-
toned to mark that stood still. 1t was all
SO sudden: there were twenty people who
were just going to shoot her, when the doe
leaped the road fence and went away across a
marsh toward the foothills. 1t was fearful
gauntlet to run. But nobody except the deer
considered it in that light. Everybody told
what he was just going to do; everybody who
had seen the performance was kind of he
ro,-everybody except the deer. For DAYS
and days it was the subject of conversation:
and the summer boarders kept their guns in
hand, expecting another deer would come to
be shot at.
The doe went away to the foothills, going
now slower, and evidently fatigued, if not
frightened half to death. Nothing is so ap-
palling to recluse as half a mile of summer
boarders. As the deer entered the thin woods
she saw rabble of people start across the
meadow in pursuit; by this time the dogs,
| painting and lolling out their tongues, came
swinging along, keeping the trail, like stupids
and consequently losing ground when the
deer doubled. But when the doe had got in
to the timber, she heard the savage bfutes
bowling across the meadow. IT is we'll
enough, perhaps, to say that nobody offered
The courage OF the painting fugitive was
| not gone; she was game to the tips 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 per force.
but still fed industriously up the right bank
of the stream. When she had gone a couple
of miles and the dogs were evidently gaming
again, she crossed the broad, deep brook,
climbed the steep left bank, and fed on in
the direction Of the mt. Marcy trail. The
fording of the river threw the hounds off for
time; she knew by their uncertain yelping
up and down the opposite bank, that she had
little respite; she used it however, to push
on until the bayiDg was faint In her ears, and
then she dropped exhausted on the ground.
This rest, brief as it was, saved her life.
Reused again by the baying pack, she leaped
forward with better speed, but without
that Keen feeling OF exhilarating fight that
she had in the morning. 1t was still race
for life, but the odds were in her favor she
thought. She did not appreciate the logged
persistence OF the hound, nor had anv inspir-
alton told her that the race is not to the swift.
She was little confused in her mind where
to go. but an instinct kept her course to the
left, and consequently further 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 Sunlight in the direc-
ton of the Upper Ausable pond. 1 do not
know her exact course through this maze of
mountains, swamps, ravines, and frightful
wildernesses. l 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, SD g
would be safe. Had she strength to swim 1t !?
At her first step into the water she saw a
sight that sent her back with bound.
there was boat mid lake; two men were in
It.; one was rowing, the other had gun in
his hand; they were looking at her: they had
seen her. (She did not know that they had
heard the baying of hounds on the noun
tains, and had been lying in wait for her an
hour) What should she doe The hounds
were drawing near. No escape that way,
even if she could still run. With only mo-
ments hesitation she plunged into the lake.
and struck obliquelv across. Eler tired legs