THE MULE DEER. 149 



aiming for the shoulder, fired. When the smoke that hung 

 on the damp morning air had cleared, no Deer was to be 

 seen. Yesterday's experience had made me overweening, 

 and I went forward very confident of finding her stretched 

 out within a reasonable distance. I did not find her stretched 

 out at any distance, arid sending old Tige on her trail, his 

 speedy return revealed no blood drawn, and a clean and 

 palpable miss. 



All riflemen have these unaccountable misses in recollec- 

 tion. A defective bullet, a stray twig deflecting, dim light, 

 a failure of eye and finger to work together, a raising or 

 depressing the gun as the trigger is pulled some con- 

 scious or unconscious cause lies at the bottom of misses, 

 where five out of six shots, all day long, would be fatal. I 

 ascribed mine to the dim light. Past three-score, and shoot- 

 ing with the naked eye, the chill morning air making the 

 eye water perhaps making the finger numb something of 

 this kind probably was at the bottom of my erring shot. I 

 was sorry; somewhat mortified, and somewhat chastened, 

 too, under the reflection that the day before I had been 

 utterly unsatisfied with the two Deer I killed because I 

 failed to kill the third. 



Nature has her revenges. And Nature is a personal, 

 intelligent, kindly father, correcting our pride and rebuk- 

 ing our ingratitude. Even in the mountains, and on a hunt, 

 we may learn this. 



We went on. Suddenly, thump! thump! thump! went 

 a Deer up a steep acclivity before us, but too thickly cov- 

 ered to allow us to see him. Now was my son's oppor- 

 tunity. With bounds like that of the Deer himself, he 

 sprang forward, and caught sight of the Deer looking back 

 for the cause of alarm, as is their wont, often. He threw 

 his Burgess to his shoulder and fired. 



Loosing Tige from the leash, he let him free, and the 

 noble dog was up the hill in a moment, and out of sight. 

 We followed, breathless, and just at the summit found the 

 dog lying by the side of the dead Deer, awaiting our com- 

 ing. It was a fine, manly feat, that rush up the hill-side; 



