290 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES 



the bed of a slight ravine, and as I rounded one of 

 its abrupt bends that gave me a view of a consider- 

 able expanse of hill-side, I stopped again to recon- 

 noitre. The ground was covered with a dense growth 

 of weeds, raspberry briers, and wild -cherry bushes, 

 that had sprung up since the timber had been 

 cut off, all of which had been stricken by 

 recent frosts, and dried by subsequent sun and 

 wind. In these dry weeds I saw a slight movement, 

 and on careful examination was able to distinguish 

 a faint outline of a doe, standing partially behind a 

 large stump, a hundred yards away. Her head and 

 shoulders were entirely hidden by the stump, and 

 I had to step back some distance before I could get 

 sight of a vital part to shoot at. As her shoulder 

 came in view I knelt on my right knee, rested my 

 left elbow on my left knee, and, drawing a fine bead 

 on her shoulder, fired. She dropped in her tracks. 

 My aim was a little higher than I intended, and the 

 bullet, passing through her shoulder blades high 

 up, severed the spine between them on its way, 

 killing her as suddenly as if it had entered the 

 brain. At the report of the rifle a young buck 

 bounded out of the brush near by and waved me a 

 vaunting farewell as he disappeared over the ridge, 

 not giving me even a fair running shot. I dressed 

 the doe and went back to camp for dinner, the 

 welcome notes of the huge old tin horn, floating 

 in musical cadence through the forest, summoning 

 me at that moment to that much needed repast. 



After dinner I went out on another old unused 

 logging road, leading to the south, and, following it 

 a few hundred yards, branched off to another which 



