The Whitetail Deer 55 



is not great, and home we come in triumph. Some 

 times, however, we fail to find game, or the deer take 

 unguarded passes, or the shot is missed. Occa 

 sionally I have killed deer on these hunts; generally 

 I have merely sat still a long while, listened to the 

 hounds, and at last heard somebody else shoot. In 

 fact such hunting, though good enough fun if only 

 tried rarely, would speedily pall if followed at all 

 regularly. 



Personally the chief excitement I have had in 

 connection therewith has arisen from some antic of 

 my horse; a half-broken bronco is apt to become 

 unnerved when a man with a gun tries to climb on 

 him in a hurry. On one hunt in 1890 I rode a wild 

 animal named Whitefoot. He had been a confirmed 

 and very bad bucker three years before, when I had 

 him in my string on the round-up; but had grown 

 quieter with years. Nevertheless I found he had 

 some fire left; for a hasty vault into the saddle on 

 my part was followed on his by some very resolute 

 pitching. I lost my rifle and hat, and my revolver 

 and knife were bucked out of my belt; but I kept 

 my seat all right, and finally got his head up and 

 mastered him without letting him throw himself 

 over backward, a trick he sometimes practiced. 

 Nevertheless, in the first jump when I was taken 

 unawares, I strained myself across the loins, and did 

 not get entirely over it for six months. 



To shoot running game with the rifle it is always 



