A mile from camp they landed, for this
was a favourite deer run. Very soon Rolf pointed to the ground.
He had found a perfectly fresh track, but Van seemed not to
comprehend. They went along it, Rolf softly and silently, Van
with his long feet and legs making a dangerous amount of clatter.
Rolf turned and whispered, "That won't do. You must not stand on
dry sticks." Van endeavoured to move more cautiously and thought
he was doing well, but Rolf found it very trying to his patience
and began to understand how Quonab had felt about himself a year
ago. "See," said Rolf, "lift your legs so; don't turn your feet
out that way. Look at the place before you put it down again;
feel with your toe to make sure there is no dead stick, then
wriggle it down to the solid ground. Of course, you'd do better
in moccasins. Never brush past any branches; lift them aside and
don't let them scratch; ease them back to the place; never try to
bend a dry branch; go around it," etc. Van had not thought of
these things, but now he grasped them quickly, and they made a
wonderful improvement in his way of going.
They came again to the water's edge; across a little bay Rolf
sighted at once the form of a buck, perfectly still, gazing their
way, wondering, no doubt, what made those noises.
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