SHOOTING A DEER. 177 



before both his ears had fairly emerged from the 

 bushes. " Shoot him," he said to me. " I can't," I 

 replied; "I am too tired: shoot him yourself." So 

 stooping my head to let the bullet pass over me, I 

 watched him as he took aim ; and it was a sight 

 worth seeing. The careless, indolent manner so 

 natural to him had disappeared as if by magic, and he 

 stood up in the stern of the boat as straight as his own 

 rifle, while his dark eye glanced like an eagle's. 

 Every nerve in him seemed to have been suddenly 

 touched by an electric spark — and as he now stooped to 

 elude the watchfulness of the deer, and now again 

 stood erect, with his rifle raised to his shoulder, he 

 was one of the most picturesque objects I ever saw. 

 The timorous doe was feeding on the marsh, and ever 

 and anon lifted her head as if she scented danger in 

 the air. Then Mitchell would drop like a flash, and 

 gently rise again as the deer returned to her feed. She 

 was about twenty rods off, and now stood fairly ex- 

 posed amid the grass. It was a long shot for arm's 

 length, and a tottlish boat to stand in, but he resolved 

 to try it. Slowly bringing his rifle to his face, he 

 stood for a moment as motionless as a pillar of marble, 

 while his gun seemed suddenly to have frozen in its 



