"I remember," continued Mrs. Frazer, "to have heard of a sad accident which was caused by a fawn."
"Oh, what was it, nurse? Do tell me, for I don't see how such a timid pretty creature could hurt any one."
"A party of Indians were rowing in a canoe on one of the great American rivers. As they passed a thick clump of trees, a young fawn suddenly sprang out, and, frightened by their cries, leaped into the water. For some days the rain had been heavy; the river was therefore running with a wild, impetuous current; and the fawn was carried along by the rushing tide at a tremendous rate. The Indians, determined to capture it, paddled down the stream with eager haste, and in their excitement forgot that they were in the neighbourhood of a great rapid, or cataract; dangerous at all times, but especially so after long-continued rains. On, on, they went! Suddenly the fawn disappeared, and looking behind them, the startled Indians found themselves on the very brink of the rapid! Two of their countrymen, standing on a rock overhanging the foaming waters, saw their peril, and by shouts and gestures warned them of it. With vigorous efforts they turned the prow of their canoe, and endeavoured to cross the river. They plied their paddles with all the desperation of men who knew that nothing could save them but their own exertions, that none on earth could help them. But the current proved too strong. It carried them over the fall, and dashed their bark broadside against a projecting rock. A moment, and all was over! Not one of them was ever seen again!"
"Oh, what a sad story!" cried Lady Mary; "and all those men were killed through one poor little fawn! Still, nurse, it was not the fawn's fault; it was the result of their own impatience and folly. Did you ever see a tame fawn, nurse?"
"I have seen many, my dear, and I can tell you of one that was the pet and companion of a little girl whom I knew several years ago. A hunter had shot a poor doe, which was very wrong, and contrary to the Indian hunting law; for the native hunter will not, unless pressed by hunger, kill the deer in the spring of the year, when the fawns are young. The Indian wanted to find the little one after he had shot the dam, so he sounded a decoy whistle, to imitate the call of the doe; and the harmless thing answered it with a bleat, thinking no doubt it was its mother calling to it. This betrayed its hiding-place, and it was taken unhurt by the hunter, who took it home, and gave it to my little friend Ellen to feed and take care of."
[Illustration: THE INDIAN HUNTER]
"Please, Mrs. Frazer, will you tell me what sort of trees hemlocks are?
Hemlocks in England are poisonous weeds."
"These are not weeds, but large forest trees—a species of pine. I will show you some the next time we go out for a drive—they are very handsome trees."
"And what are creeks, nurse?"
"Creeks are small streams, such as in Scotland would be termed 'burns,' and in England 'rivulets'"