From behind the boys, a deer came out of the bushes, tread lightly through the slush and grass, then tested the slabs of ice on the bank.

"Look!" Bern said.

"Shhh." Calvin put his hand out to silence Bern.

The deer's ears flickered and it sniffed the air. It looked cautious but determined. Onto the ice it went, watching its step, eyeing the open water and its destination on the other side of the river across the jagged ice.

Mel marched toward the dog. The dog backed up, its tail pressed against the old house. Mel struck it once across the back. The dog yelped and squirmed to one side. Mel reached for its collar and raised the axe handle over his head. His wife came to the door. "Mel! Stop beating that poor dog!" Mel grabbed the collar and was poised to deliver one more blow, severe enough that the dog might go quiet just at the sight of him. The dog pulled backward away from Mel and pulled its head out of the collar. It bolted for the river.

The deer was moving one cautious step at a time, with its head low as it focused on the ice just ahead of it. When its head snapped up, and its ears turned toward the house, Bern turned and saw the dog running at them. It was bounding through the snow and weeds toward him. The dog's ears were down and its back was straight and its paws kicked up snow and ice as it raced down the path to the river. Its mouth was open and its tongue trailed to one side. If Bern had not been so frightened, he could have imagined it was smiling. He could hear Calvin's quick steps behind him, and his own shrill voice.

"Calvin. Your dog. Your dog is loose."

"Sarg. Here, Sarg." Calvin ran in front of Bern, scuttling over blocks of ice, trying to intercept the dog, but the dog angled away from him. Its claws dug into the ice as it sprang over the frozen blocks, more stable on the slippery, uneven surface than either Calvin or Bern. Surer than the deer, whose hooves provided little traction, whose thin legs splayed and wobbled as it scrambled toward the other side of the river. But the way was not clear, and it had not been tested. There were chunks of ice to be navigated, crevices to avoid, a path to be chosen before the ice flowed and the season changed and the animal found itself stranded on the wrong side of the river.

Calvin followed the dog onto the ice, calling it. "Sarg! Heel, Sarg!" Bern watched, more relieved than horrified as the relentless dog nipped at deer's legs, barking and gnashing, steering the deer farther onto the ice. At first the deer passed over two detached and unsteady cakes of ice, but could not scale the next of icy slabs that formed part of the craggy heap that extended all the way to the bridge. The dog was not far behind, barking. The section of ice that the dog was standing on sunk slightly then bobbed up with every bark and lunge.

Calvin went closer, but could feel the surface buoyant and unsure under him. He beckoned the dog from a few yards away, trying to coax it to him. The dog barked and barked as the deer edged away, around the heap of ice, stepping where the ice was thin and crumbling. It tried to regain its balance and back up to secure footing, but the ice gave way and the deer was in the water.

The open water was banked in a semi-circle with ice pushing against the bridge. The deer tried to climb onto a few of the floating cakes, but the edges submerged under its weight then bobbed away. It swam back toward the dog where the ice was more secure, but the barking drove it to the open water.

"Shut up, Sarg," Calvin roared. "Sarg. Shut up!"

The deer swam in a slow circle, its legs kicking beneath the grey surface. Water lapped up to its ears, and its wide eyes and gaping mouth circled to the dog, then away, then back, lower and lower until the water reached its eyes and eventually filled its mouth.

"Around the ice. Around!" Calvin made swooping gestures, trying to show the panicked animal the route around the ice to the other side. "Around! Sarg! Come on, Sarg. Sarg!"

The dog continued to bark at the last place the deer's head had surfaced. When it barked, the ice cake dipped and water washed up on the yellow slab, covering the dog's paws. Calvin stopped yelling, and the dog stopped barking. The dog came to him and sat at his feet, water dripping from the fur on its legs.

"Maybe it went under the ice," Bern said. "Maybe it swam under the ice to the other side." As he lay in bed that night the swimming and the barking lasted a long time and the dark shape of the deer passed under the ice and it fled behind the trees on the other side of the river. It was air, not frigid water, that it sucked into its mouth the last time its dark nose was above the surface of the water.

Calvin was silent. The air was mild, like spring, and the tide was going out. The mushy ice ground against the bridge and Calvin knew it would not be there in the morning.

"Don't you think? Calvin?"

"I don't think so," he said.

Text Copyright © Larry Lynch, 2002
Reprinted with permission from Gaspereau Press