The Whitetail Deer 57 



Sometimes on a runway the difficulty is not that 

 the game is too far, but that it is too close ; for a deer 

 may actually almost jump on the hunter, surprising 

 him out of all accuracy of aim. Once something of 

 the sort happened to me. 



Winter was just beginning. I had been off with 

 the ranch wagon on a last round-up of the beef 

 steers; and had suffered a good deal, as one always 

 does on these cold weather round-ups, sleeping out 

 in the snow, wrapped up in blankets and tarpaulin, 

 with no tent and generally no fire. Moreover, I 

 became so weary of the interminable length of the 

 nights, that I almost ceased to mind the freezing 

 misery of standing night guard round the restless 

 cattle; while roping, saddling, and mastering the 

 rough horses each morning, with numbed and stif- 

 fened limbs, though warming to the blood was har- 

 rowing to the temper. 



On my return to the ranch I found a strange 

 hunter staying there; a clean, square-built, honest- 

 looking little fellow, but evidently not a native 

 American. As a rule, nobody displays much curios- 

 ity about any one's else antecedents in the Far West ; 

 but I happened to ask my foreman who the new- 

 comer was, chiefly because the said newcomer, 

 evidently appreciating the warmth and comfort of 

 the clean, roomy ranch house, with its roaring fires, 

 books, and good fare, seemed inclined to make a 

 permanent stay, according to the custom of the 



