THE STILL HUNT. 121 



a dank place, and handed it to me. The leaf was cut 

 almost in the shape of the letter V. 



" What does that mean — a deer's track ?" 



Mike nodded. 



" How long ago was that track made ?" 



" Two minutes — 'bout." 



My looks must have expressed doubt, for Mike replied : 

 "Look here, now, leaves don't tell lies m the piney 

 woods, though I've heern tell they do in books. D'ye 

 see that juice comin' out of that leaf thar jist whar the 

 the deer's huff cut it ?" 



"Well?" 



"D'yer think them air leetle drops has been more 'an 

 a week formin' when they're growin' bigger as ye look, 

 and haint run together yet ? Tear another leaf, don't it 

 come jist as fast ? Ain't that as plain as a bar up a gum 

 tree ? He's a sockdologer of a buck, too !" 



" Now, Mike, look here. I will believe what you say 

 about the time, but don't say what you don't know. 

 You can have everything your own w^ay here, but there 

 are no means in the world of telling this deer to have been 

 a buck, so you need not say so till we see it." 



" Wall, now," said Mike, setting down the breech of 

 his heavy rifle on the ground, and leaning his chin on the 

 muzzle, w^hile he looked at me with an expression of 

 pity; "wall, now, ef I had a young 'un, and he 

 couldn't tell that he was a scandalous big buck, walking 

 alone slowly like out to the feedin' grounds, ef 

 I wouldn't claw his back with a wildcat, I would. 



6 



