Friday, Oct 18, 1889 Wind lulled at midnight. Mild and still. Misty morning. Men drove a deer in. Shower and high wind. The dog drove a yearling buck into the lake and the men caught it and brought it in in one of the birches. The poor little creature was terribly frightened and thrashed and tumbled about in the most terrified manner, in the lake and among the sand bleating piteously and panting with fright. Eastman photographed him and then they let him go. He leaped directly into a great pile of brush and debris cleared from our camp ground and made his way slowly up into the woods. Fred came up from Pemadumcook where he left his party, after his boots and Ben York and the dog went back with him. About 1 o'clock Royal and I started out to find another trout hole Ben York told us of at the foot of a fall on Pratt brook above the fork but when we got around the point we found the wind so high we turned back concluding that even if we reached the place the fish would not bite in so high a wind. When we returned to camp Eastman said he must go home and we have concluded to start tomorrow and began packing the things we did not need.
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