(j6 letters from the backwoods. 



own rifle, -while his dark eye glanced like an eagle's. 

 Every nerve in him seemed to have been suddenly 

 touched by an electric spark, and as he now stooped to 

 elude the watchfulness of the deer, and now again stood 

 erect with his rifle raised to his shoulder, he was one of 

 the most picturesque objects I ever saw. The timorous 

 animal was feeding on the marsh, and ever and anon 

 lifted her head as if she scented danger in the air. 

 Then Mitchell's would drop like a flash, and gently 

 lift again as the deer returned to her feed. Slie was 

 about twenty rods off, and now stood fairly exposed 

 amid the grass. It was a long shot for arm's length, 

 and a tottlish boat to stand in, but he resolved to try 

 it. Slowly bringing his rifle to his face, he stood 

 for a moment as motionless as a pillar of marble, 

 while his gun seemed suddenly to have frozen in its 

 place, so still and steady did it lie in his bronze 

 hand. A flash — a quick sharp report, and the noble 

 deer bounded several feet into the air, then wheeled 

 and sprang into the forest. He had shot directly 

 over my head, and the mad bound of the animal told 

 too well that the unerring bullet had struck near the 

 life. Rowing hastily to the spot, we could find no 

 traces of the deer ; but Mitchell, with his eye bent on 

 the ground, paced backward and forward without 

 saying a word. At length he stopped, and, peering 

 down amid the long grass, said, "Here is blood." 

 How he discovered it is a perfect mystery to me, for 

 the grass was a foot long and very thick, while the 

 blood spot was but a drop which had fallen on the 

 roots of a single blade. I never should have noticed 



