Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1906-09-15

Y
\ cords.
The operation was a success, but
he had to preserve absolute silence
for the next couple of weeks. After
that he was permitted to speak spar
ingly under his breath, and indeed it
was two months before he was able
to raise his voice above a whisper.
To relieve the discomforts of this
semi-silence, he went to the northern
Ontario woods, where there was no
one to talk to. He secured guide
who was as taciturn as could be de-
sired, and after week of canoeing
and portaging, they established camp
in the Lake of Bays district, which
is little beyond the range of the
most summer camping parties.
While the balsam air healed his
throat, '"rray amused himself by
fishing and by taking photographs of
wild scenery, and wnen he got
chance, of wild animals.
While trolling for maskinonge in a
small lake about three miles from
camp, he came upon much tramped
spot on the shore that was evidently
favorite drinking place for deer,
and perhaps for moose. These ami
mails came there only at night, Tut it
occurred to Murray that he might lie
in wait beside the runway with his
camera and flash light, which could
be fired when he heard the game ap-
proach.
He had half dozen fash light
powders at camp, and he padded
back to secure them. Dusk was al
ready falling when he returned to
the lake and set up the camera upon
Its tripod about IN feet on the lee
ward side of the runway that wound
through tn tangled woods.
The chore was low, and a uense
cc swamp came down almost to
the gravelly beach. A dead spruce
had fallen with it's top among the
water lily pads, and Murray sat down
)c- it's trunk close to his camera.
The twilight deepened; the forest
grew dark, and a chill gathered as
the stars grew white in the grecrish
~.
1t WIS too late COR mosquitoes to
be troublesome, but it became Gecid-
eddy old, and the dead silence and
dreariness of the black woods and
water began to Cypress Murray.
Eventually, however, he became
drowsy, and in spite of his efforts to
Feep awake, he dozed a little, with
intermittent nervous starts.
Finally he shook himself awake.
His limbs were stiff, and he stood up
to stretch them. He was looking
over the dark water, when a small,
brilliant point of light appeared at
the other end of the lake. 1t might,
in!ced, have been there for some
time, and Murray put on his eye
glasses, for he was somewhat short
sighted, and gazed at it. He took
it for a campfire at first, but 1t
moved as he watched it, coming slow
~ r vn the lake.
1t could be nothing but light car
ried in a canoe, and he realized at
once what this meant. 1t was some
hunter using jack-light for deer, in
defiance of the ethics of sportsman
ship and of the Canadian law.
Murray had often heard this mode
of hunting described. The deer
stanIs fascinated, seeing nothing but
the mysterious gliding light, Vile
tr unter sees only the glimmefing
reflection of the animals eyeballs,
which form his target. Murray
watched the light as it crept down
the lake, skirtirg the shore. Every
moment he expected to see the fash
of rife, BIT evidently the hunt was
not proving successful.
AS Murray watched the moving
flame, it occurred to him that it
would be an excellent joke to fire
the fash-light and photograph the
pot hunter in the act, as he passed
him. Chuckling at the idea, he
| wheeled the camera about to point
| over the lake, and set the focus for
ten yards. He prepared the flash
gun, and stood ready, waiting for the
canoe to approach.
The jack-light crawled nearer,
without even the sound of a dripping
| paddle, in mysterious silence. When
| it was some fifty yards away it
paused, and turned inshore and tow
ard him. 1t must be that the hunter
was familiar with this drinking spot.
He stared through his glasses at
the light as if he had been a deer,
while the canoe stole toward him
through the darkness. He could see
the flicker of the pine knot in its pan
at the bow; he caught a glimpse of
the bare reen behind it; but of the
canoe or the paddler he could see
nothing.
1t was almost time to discharge
his fash-light; and he could scarcely
contain his laughter at the thought
of the shock which the sudden brill
liant glare would give the pot hunter,
when he heard the quick, unmistak-
able click of firearm in the canoe!
And there was no game there-ex-
cept himself. Like lightning it
came upon him that his own eyes
or his glasses-had caught the light
He was being stalked By a lucky
impulse he dropped upon his hands
and knees, k >cking ever the tripod.
AS he dropped, rife shot banged
from the canoe.
The long squirt of fame seemed
almost to reach him, and the acrid
smoke was blown in his face. In
stinctively he tried to shout, but his
throat failed him. Only a slbilant
whisper ca from his lips.
This was drowned in a yell from
the canoe.
THAT hit him! He's down."
shouted two or three boyish voices,
and the canoe darted toward land