184 FIFTY YEARS A HUNTER AND TRAPPER. 



get in shape to strike me with his feet under the log. I think that 

 I was so badly frightened at the sudden meeting with the deer, that 

 I did not know what to do so I hung tight to the buck's horns 

 and called as loud as I could for help, thinking that some one might 

 possibly be passing along the road, which was not so far away, hear 

 my call and come to my assistance, but no one came. A man by 

 the name of Nelson lived about a fourth of a mile away, who had 

 a large bulldog. The dog's name was Turk. This dog would 

 follow me at every chance that he could get. As no assistance 

 came, I had about made up my mind to release my hold on the 

 deer as my strength was fast leaving me, when I thought to call 

 for Turk. I began calling as loud as I could and it seemed that 

 the dog had heard my calling before I began, for almost before I 

 was aware of his presence the dog sprang over the log and seized 

 the deer by the hind leg, but the dog had barely grabbed the 

 deer when the deer kicked him away from the path into the 

 laurel. 



In an instant the dog, with an angry yelp, jumped and seized 

 the deer by the throat and in a moment the deer ceased to struggle 

 and began to settle to the ground. As soon as I dared to release 

 my hold on the deer's horns I got my pocket knife out and sprang 

 over the log and ran the knife blade into the deer's throat. The 

 deer did not seem to notice the knife. I think that the dog had 

 choked the life out of him. The battle was over and it was only a 

 few minutes but it was the hardest battle that I ever had and the 

 dog came to my assistance none too soon for I could not have 

 held on much longer. 



This did not end the fight, for I had hardly begun to dress 

 the deer before two dogs that were in pursuit of the deer came 

 up. I was compelled to use sticks, stones and clubs to break up a 

 fight between the bulldog and the hounds, though I finally got the 

 row broke up and drove the hounds off in order to keep peace. 



Boys, I am not sure whether the incident just related would 

 be called a hit or a miss. I will tell of an incident that I call a hit. 

 A man by the name of Wells and a brother of mine were camping 

 near the old Jersey Shore turnpike and were trapping, also hunting 

 deer. One day they had been off on the west side of the turnpike 



