A New Year's Deer Hunt. 



was over, I shouldered my gun and struck out toward Pilot 

 Mound. The big arms of the trees were loaded with light 

 snow. The small branches and vines that encircled them were 

 drooping chains of feathery white, and the few scattering ber- 

 ries on the thorn-apple shone brighter than ever from their 

 garlands of snow. The woods were wild then, and the new 

 snow was written everywhere with strange characters. Down 

 by the creek was the curious wallowing trail of the otter, but 

 I knew too much to follow it. Here the mink had taken an 

 airing and a hunt during the night, but I was too well posted 

 on mink to lose any time with their tracks. Everywhere were 

 the tracks of the big bushy-footed hare, now in his white robe 

 of winter ; and smaller tracks like those of the cotton-tail, but 

 leading to the trunk of some big tree where they came to a 

 sudden end. Here were tracks of the little wood-mouse look- 

 ing like a small chain had been dropped in the snow, and yet, 

 with all these tracks there was no sign of life. Silence, vast 

 and deep, lay upon the woods. There was not even the bark 

 of a squirrel or chirp of a bird, nor even a sighing of a breeze 

 through the tree-tops, and save the occasional flakes of snow 

 sifting from the branches, not a motion -far or near. Trails of 

 deer were everywhere, and it seemed as if there were hundreds 

 of them within a short radius. I was worried to know what 

 I should do with all my game, but this was my first deer hunt 

 and I had lots to learn. Here three deer had jumped a log 

 whisking the snow from the top as they descended on the other 

 side, and my hand trembled as I grasped the gun with a firmer 

 grip, expecting to see them just beyond the log. 



Onward I glided with moccasined foot, so gently that even 

 the air was unruffled by my movements, watching the depths 

 of the woods far ahead so intently, with eyes naturally keen 

 and long trained upon other game, that it would be impossible 

 for anything so large as a deer to stir without my catching the 

 motion. How many have felt that sweet delusion ! There is no 

 certainty on earth that wears its charm, no disenchantment so 

 astounding when the real truth breaks upon you. Soon I found 



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