"He must be living somewhere around here," whispered my companion.
He looked very alert now, noting every sign and stopping to investigate
the waving of grasses and the motions of leaves. We peered in every
tangle of bush and shrub, and moved as silently as we possibly could.
We had slowly been following the stream for nearly an hour, and were on
the edge of the brook when the doctor quickly knelt down, and of course
I followed his example. He pointed towards some alders ahead of us.
"See those tops moving?" he whispered.
"I see them bending with the wind," I replied, in the same low voice.
"There is no wind here," he said. "It must be a stag or a bear in there."
We kept on watching and, Aunt Jennie, my heart was beating so with the
excitement of it that I could hardly keep still. But I insist that I was
not the least bit scared. I rather think that Dr. Grant impresses one as
a man who could take care of bears or anything else that might threaten
one. Presently, above the green leaves, appeared something that looked
like stout, reddish branches. We could see them only for an instant, and
then they went down again.
"It's a big, old stag," whispered the doctor.
"What shall we do?" I asked.
"I am going to give you a shot," he said.
"I shouldn't dare. I am sure I should miss," I answered.
"You must try. You know that you are the lucky one. I am going to leave
you here with the rifle and I shall crawl back a little way.
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