The Whitetail Deer 59 



the bottoms for whitetail. The cowboy and our 

 one trackhound plunged into the young cottonwood 

 which grew thickly over the sandy bottom; while 

 the little hunter and I took our stands on a cut 

 bank, twenty feet high and half a mile long, which 

 hedged in the trees from behind. Three or four game 

 trails led up through steep, narrow clefts in this 

 bank; and we tried to watch these. Soon I saw a 

 deer in an opening below, headed toward one end of 

 the bank, round which another game trail led; and 

 I ran bard toward this end, where it turned into a 

 knife-like ridge of clay. About fifty yards from the 

 point there must have been some slight irregularities 

 in the face of the bank, enough to give the deer 

 a foothold; for as I ran along the animal suddenly 

 bounced over the crest, so close that I could have 

 hit it with my right hand. As I tried to pull up 

 short and swing round, my feet slipped from under 

 me in the wet clay, and down I went; while the 

 deer literally turned a terrified somersault backward. 

 I flung myself to the edge and missed a hurried 

 shot as it raced back on its tracks. Then, wheeling, 

 I saw the little hunter running toward me along 

 the top of the cut bank, his face on a broad grin. 

 He leaped over one of the narrow clefts, up which 

 a game trail led; and hardly was he across before 

 the frightened deer bolted up it, not three yards 

 from his back. He did not turn, in spite of my 

 shouting and handwaving, and the frightened deer, 



