80 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



As I thus lay putting propositions to myself, I heard a loud 

 snort or whistle directly behind me. I turned hastily, and away 

 bounded a buck that had been standing apparently within ten feet 

 of me. How I apostrophised my carelessness, and watched the 

 waving grass as he wound among the meadow paths far away on 

 the plains ! 



Again I watched, and this time more successfully, for over the 

 knoll I could see a pair of horns coming slowly forward, though 

 the deer was still out of sight. They advanced like a rower in a 

 boat, with measured but irregular speed, and once in a while 

 stopped altogether. Then my heart beat like a drum, but when 

 the horns advanced again I felt more composed. At length the 

 head appeared above the brow of the hill, then the shoulders, then 

 the full length and height of the animal; there was no more 

 doubt — it was the sockdologer of a buck described by Mike. When 

 it reached the hill it seemed to halt for a survey, and viewed the 

 whole extent of the woods and savannah. Trees, and waters, and 

 waving grass, tbe cool retreats of low hanging bushes, all appeared 

 to his eye like the pleasant meadows to the monarch bull, when, 

 released from his winter's stall, he looks over the farm in the 

 spring. All kinds of nervous apprehensions arose in my mind. 

 I feared lest he might turn back, and almost called out in my 

 anxiety. I dreaded lest he should see me, and crouched to the 

 earth to prevent it. Presently, apparently satisfied with his exam- 

 ination, he marched down the hill to where I lay in ambush. His 

 head high up, his great horns back, his step like the step of a race- 

 horse, he looked like a marching king. I could not see any part 

 of his body but his breast, and did not like to take a front shot, 

 but waited until he should present some other view. But the 

 stag did not intend to turn aside; he saw his feeding ground 

 beyond, green with the succulent herbage of the lowlands, where 

 his mates had awaited him all the night, and he walked right 

 onward. Now he was too near to shoot. What should I do? 

 If he sees me, he will dash off, giving me the worst possible shot. 

 My heart beat so I could not lay on my side, but raising my gun 

 gently on my left elbow, I depressed the breech, and without 

 taking sight, when the deer was almost over me, pulled the trigger 



