"lay her more to the left; another stroke of the paddle, and I have him."
While speaking, he raised the spear, and darted it from him like an arrow. At that instant the buck turned. The long pole glanced by him, the iron striking against his horn, and buried itself, harmlessly, in the lake.
"Back water," cried Natty, as the canoe glided over the place where the spear had fallen, "hold water, John."
The pole soon re-appeared, shooting upward from the lake, and as the hunter seized it in his hand, the Indian whirled the light canoe round, where it lay, and renewed the chase. But this evolution gave the buck a great advantage; and it also allowed time for Edwards to approach the scene of action.
"Hold your hand, Natty," cried the youth, "hold your hand; remember it is out of season."
This remonstrance was made as the batteau arrived close to where the deer was struggling with the water, his back now rising to the surface, now sinking beneath it, as the waves curled from his neck, the animal sustaining itself nobly against the odds.
"Hurrah!" shouted Edwards, inflamed beyond prudence at the sight; "mind him as he doubles—mind him as he doubles; sheer more to the right, Mohegan, more to the right, and I'll have him by the horns; I'll throw the rope over his antlers."
The dark eye of the old warrior was dancing in his head, with a wild animation, as bright and natural as the rays that shot from the glancing organs of the terrified deer himself, and the sluggish repose in which his aged frame had been resting in the canoe, was now changed to all the rapid inflections of a practised agility. The ca-
