306 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



Bill said: "Old Pop made me mad last night, bustin' 

 in the talk to know if squaws was good-lookin'. What 

 'n thunder is that to him?" and then he launched out in 

 his rough way and "swore like our army in Flanders." 

 There was a crackling of brush, followed by several 

 thuds, and Bill's rifle spoke. I saw nothing; the deer 

 had been lying down on Bill's side of the ridge listening 

 to what Bill thought of the propriety of O. P. Knight's 

 inquiry into the physical attractions of the Ojibway 

 maidens, and no doubt feared that Bill's indignation 

 might take a wrong direction, and so considered it best 

 to leave him to settle it with Mr. Knight without being a 

 party to the row. We went to the place where the deer 

 jumped, but found no blood. Going back to the ridge, 

 about fifty yards, I looked the range over, and then found 

 where the bullet had cut a twig and then raked up the 

 snow half way to the spot where the deer jumped, no 

 doubt when it was several rods on its journey. 



"Who'd think there was a deer lyin' down in that 

 thicket?" asked Bill. "Why, I s'posed we'd have to 

 track 'em after we found where they'd been?" 



"If they're not afoot you never know when you may 

 jump one along a ridge," said I, "for they seldom lie in 

 the hollows, and you can look for 'em on the sheltered 

 side of a ridge 'most anywhere. Now let Old Poppy 

 Knight rest, and keep still for a while. Your shot has 

 been heard by every deer within three miles, and it may 

 have put some of them afoot, but you will have to tramp 

 before you see one. We're nearing the river now; the 

 ridge forks here; you take the left hand one, and we'll 

 come together at the river." 



After going about half a mile and seeing no track I 

 heard Bill's shot from the western ridge, stopped and 

 cocked my rifle. A buck came dashing down the hill 



