DEER HUNTING. 253 



shirt, and a pair of trowsers of the same material. His 

 feet are well moccasoned : he wears a belt round his 

 waist, his heavy rifle is resting on his brawny shoulder; 

 on one side hangs his ball-pouch, surmounted by the 

 horn of an ancient buffalo, once the terror of the herd, 

 but now containing a pound of the best gunpowder ; his 

 butcher-knife is scabbarded in the same strap, and be- 

 hind is a tomahawk, the handle of which has been thrust 

 through his girdle. He walks with so rapid a step, that 

 probably few men could follow him, unless for a short 

 distance, in their anxiety to witness his ruthless deeds. 

 He stops, looks at the flint of his gun, its priming, and 

 the leather cover of the lock, then glances his eye to- 

 wards the sky, to judge of the course most likely to lead 

 him to the game. 



The heavens are clear, the red glare of the morning 

 sun gleams through the lower branches of the lofty 

 trees, the dew hangs in pearly drops at the top of every 

 leaf. Already has the emerald hue of the foliage been 

 converted into the more glowing tints of our autumnal 

 months. A slight frost appears on the fence-rails of his 

 little cornfield. As he proceeds, he looks to the dead 

 foliage under his feet, in search of the well known traces 

 of a buck's hoof. Now he bends toward the ground, on 

 which something has attracted his attention. See ! he 

 alters his course, increases his speed, and will soon reach 

 the opposite hill. Now he moves with caution, stops at 

 almost every tree, and peeps forward as if already within 

 shooting distance of the game. He advances again, but 

 how very slowly ! He has reached the declivity, upon 

 which the sun shines in all its growing splendor ; but 



