The Wbitetail Deer 95 



up — fortunately in the right direction. Taking 

 advantage of a slight inequality in the soil, I 

 managed to get behind one of these tufts, and 

 almost immediately saw the buck. Toward the 

 head of the coulie the brush had become scanty 

 and low, and he was now walking straight for- 

 ward, evidently keeping a sharp lookout. The 

 sun had just set. His course took him past me 

 at a distance of eighty yards. When directly 

 opposite I raised myself on my elbows, drawing 

 up the rifle, which I had shoved ahead of me. 

 The movement of course caught his eye at once ; 

 he halted for one second to look around and see 

 what it was, and during that second I pulled the 

 trigger. Away he went, his white flag switching 

 desperately, and though he galloped over the hill, 

 I felt he was mine. However, when I got to the 

 top of the rise over which he had gone, I could 

 not see him, and as there was a deep though 

 narrow coulie filled with brush on the other side, 

 I had a very ugly feeling that I might have lost 

 him, in spite of the quantity of blood he had left 

 along his trail. It was getting dark, and I plunged 

 quickly into the coulie. Usually a wounded deer 

 should not be followed until it has had time to grow 

 stiff, but this was just one of the cases where the 

 rule would have worked badly ; in the first place, 

 because darkness was coming on, and in the next 

 place, because the animal was certain to die 



