The fact is, the deer gather in a place where there is plenty of food and good shelter.

The snow does not drift here, so the deer, by continually moving about, soon make a network of tracks in all directions, extending them as they must to seek more food.

They may, of course, leave the yard at any time, but at once they encounter the dreaded obstacle of deep, soft snow in which they are helpless.
Once they reached the well-worn trails, the hunters took off their snowshoes and went gently on these deer paths.

They saw one or two disappearing forms, which taught them the thick cover was hiding many more.

They made for the sound of the ravens, and found that the feast of the sable birds was not a deer but the bodies of three, quite recently killed.
Quonab made a hasty study of the signs and said, "Panther." Yes, a panther, cougar, or mountain lion also had found the deer yard; and here he was living, like a rat in a grocer shop with nothing to do but help himself whenever he felt like feasting.
Pleasant for the panther, but hard on the deer; for the killer is wasteful and will often kill for the joy of murder.
Not a quarter of the carcasses lying here did he eat; he was feeding at least a score of ravens, and maybe foxes, martens, and lynxes as well.
Before killing a deer, Quonab thought it well to take a quiet prowl around in hopes of seeing the panther.