THE GULF COAST OF FLORIDA. 200 



aspen-leaf, but uttered no sound. Will brought his gun for- 

 ward, glanced along the barrels and pulled. The report 

 rang out on the silent bosom of the night like a peal of 

 thunder from a cloudless sky. As it echoed away through 

 the tall pines we heard a faint rattle among the palmetto 

 bushes, and all was still as death again. 



We walked hurriedly to the spot where a moment before 

 we had seen the startling vision, and there lay a noble buck 

 breathing his last. Six of the nine buckshot had taken 

 effect, four in the head and two in the left shoulder. We 

 severed his windpipe, lashed his feet together and carried him 

 home. 



Such was my first night's experience in fire-hunting, and I 

 sincerely hope this will not be my last. I had always consid- 

 ered it a species of pot-hunting, and had never thought I 

 should enjoy it until since I came to Florida, and heard so 

 much of its merits as a genuine sport. I should not even now 

 wish to hunt deer in this way often, for I still think the fire- 

 hunter takes an undue advantage of the game; but to the 

 lover of nature (and what true sportsman is not?) a fire-hunt 

 must always possess a peculiar and indescribable charm, espe- 

 cially in Florida. No sportsman who visits this state should 

 under any circumstances leave it without a taste of this 

 most novel sport. 



