Читать книгу Camping in the Winter Woods: Adventures of Two Boys in the Maine Woods онлайн

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“Don’t you dare!” thundered Ben, between paddle-strokes. “No one but a ‘tenderfoot’ or a ‘pot-hunter’ would shoot a deer in the water. And never try to kill a deer with anything but a rifle. We’ll just have some fun with him and let him go.”

They felt rather disappointed at losing such a chance. They did not quite know what a “tenderfoot” or a “pot-hunter” might be, but were sure neither was a pattern for them.

Meanwhile they had approached to within a few yards of the buck. They could hear his hoarse, quick breathing and see the big, brown eyes turned toward them in fear as they drew close up beside him. The deer was doing all in its power to evade capture. But Ben was an expert with the paddle, and, twist and turn as it would, the frightened creature found the pursuing canoe always beside it. The boys, thoroughly carried away by the sport, reached forth to touch it on the neck. Instantly a change came over the hunted animal. An angry light of battle shone in its eyes, and even as Ben called a warning it half raised itself from the water and struck a wicked blow at the frail canoe with its sharp-pointed forefeet.