422 BIG GAME SHOOTING 
logs break your shins, and every other device of inanimate 
Nature is found to obstruct and annoy you with what seems 
almost live personal malice. After a long course of such sport 
as this, after having become dumb because you have no more 
‘swear words’ left to say, after having grown sick of hearing 
that abominable ‘thump, thump,’ which means that you have 
jumped another buck without seeing him, you may catch a 
glimpse of a waving white tail going over the logs, and if you 
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The White-tail’s haunt 
are a good wing-shot with a rifle you may get the beast which — 
wears it, but the betting is you won’t ; or you may some day bé © 
astounded by the sight of a creature, apparently about as big 3 
as a good-sized jack rabbit, close ¢o you, sneaking along under — 
the brush, with its head craned forward, intent on escaping 
observation. If you move to fire, that sneaking beast will at 
once convert itself into the white-tailed timber j jumper yi have 
seen once or twice before. 
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