A BIG BUCK. 91 



bedroom, I unpacked my heaviest gun, a ten bore, 

 in whom I have particular faith, and having noted 

 the route that the teamster had come by, I followed 

 the back track of his sled, and true enough found 

 the prints of a very heavy buck. The day was still 

 young, myself in good walking-trim, and with an 

 internal determination not to be beaten, except 

 night overtook me, and very probably with the hope 

 to show the neighbors that a Britisher was good 

 for some purposes, I followed the track with un- 

 usually willing steps and light heart. To get into 

 the corn-field the buck had jumped the snake fence 

 and afterward doubled back, and as the wind did 

 not suit for me to enter at the same place, I made 

 a considerable detour. In my right barrel I had 

 sixteen buck-shot, about the size that would run one 

 hundred to the pound, and a bullet in the left. As 

 the corn had not yet been gathered, and the under- 

 growth of cuckle-burs and other weeds was tolerably 

 dense; I had little doubt but that I would get 

 sufficiently close to make use of the former. An 

 old stager like my quarry, I knew from experience 

 would be desperately sharp, so with the utmost 

 caution I advanced up wind, eyes and ears strained 

 to the utmost tension. I had only got about a 



