THE PHANTOM ROEBUCK 



the next morning I fired some dozen shots at a 

 target. To my surprise the rifle shot perfectly. 



That evening I persuaded my host to go to the 

 Dismal Pool, whilst I went in exactly the opposite 

 direction. I saw and stalked a good buck, got up 

 to within fifty yards of him, found that I could only 

 get a clear shot at his head, and so fired at that, 

 and dropped him dead in his tracks. That comforted 

 me not a little, as I was beginning to think (though 

 this went sorely against the grain) that my own 

 bad shooting might have something to do with the 

 former misses ! 



My host and I arrived at home at almost the 

 same time, and he told me the following story. He 

 went to the Dismal Pool, and waited there, not on 

 the hochstand, but behind a pile of wood that had 

 been cut and left at the edge of the little glade. 

 The buck came, and stood forty yards away. He 

 took a rest from the pile of wood, had a perfectly 

 steady shot, and missed ! 



Let me here remark that my host was (and is) a 

 first-rate shot with both gun and rifle. 



And now the thought began to arise in my mind 

 that there was something about this roebuck not 

 quite canny \ 



Every evening for another week I sat on the 

 hochstand by the Dismal Pool, without a glimpse of 

 him. 



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