112 THE STILL-HUNTER. 



disappeared. But there is no blood. The next one is 

 eight or nine feet beyond a good sign, for if unhurt 

 he would have cleared twelve or fifteen feet on such a 

 down-hill slope as this. The next one, and the next, 

 and the next, for eight or ten jumps, are all right, but 

 only eight or nine feet apart. But the next one is 

 closer, and the hoof-prints in it are wider apart from 

 each other than they were a while ago. Aha ! Look 

 at the next. He is staggering as surely as you live. 

 Hold your rifle ready and look well ahead, for it is 

 just possible that he is still on foot; or if he has fallen, 

 he may possibly rise. But he is probably dead. 



And now the marks of jumps grow closer together, 

 while the four tracks composing them are wider still. 

 And now they cease, and the trail becomes a trot, 

 long-plunging and staggering. A few more yards 

 and your buck lies dead against a log he could not 

 get over. He is shot in the shoulder, but nearly a 

 foot above the lower line of his body. Do you see 

 now how you would have fared if you had fired at 

 your own sweet will instead of aiming where I told 

 you? 



