32 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 



stopped for a minute at the edge of the timber and 

 my Winchester, which was already pointed that 

 way, was fired at a fine young buck. I took as good 

 an aim as was possible in my nervous state. The 

 buck bounded into the forest with the others, and in 

 a second I saw one of the number stop an instant so 

 that I could get a glimpse of his body as he passed 

 between the trees. I shot a second time, taking even 

 more cars than at first. The smoke came back in 

 my face and made me very uncomfortable. I walked 

 slowly and carefully across the opening, watching 

 for the slightest movement, but all was still and I 

 could neither see nor hear the deer. I found plenty 

 of tracks and then great spots of blood . Now I knew 

 my chances were good, I went rapidly forward on 

 the trail and a few rods further found the buck lying 

 by the side of a log where he had made his last leap. 

 He was stone dead. I felt like cheering, but restrained 

 myself and began searching for more signs of deer. 

 I thought I might have wounded another and did not 

 like to leave a wounded deer. I followed one trail 

 for about a quarter of a mile, but saw no signs of 

 blood and then returned to the other track. This led 

 me only a few yards and there I found the second 

 deer, shot dead in his tracks. Now was the time to 

 yell, and yell I did, and you know the rest of the 

 story, for you have eaten fresh meat." 



" I want to know ! And this is the finest meat I 

 have ever tasted, too." 



Several days later Dyche again went out with the 

 intention of getting a deer before he returned. Away 

 up on the side of the mountain he was making his 



