340 SHOOTING BLA CK FALLO W-B UCKS 



at the lucky pass, for no fewer than fifteen deer and 

 eight or nine bucks came my way. Soon after day- 

 break I heard a noise, similar to that made by sheep 

 galloping down a ravine, in my direction. I can hardly 

 describe what my sensations were, for my heart gave 

 gl'reat bounds, as if it were a deer itself, and 1 felt that 

 even with a shot-gun I stood a very bad chance of 

 hitting anything. However, there was no time for 

 me to reflect, or even take a ' nip ' to calm my nerves, 

 for on they came, without the slightest suspicion of 

 danger, owing to the clever manner in which old Mr. 

 Beg had placed me down wind. At last the leader 

 came in view of me. I let drive with my right barrel ; 

 I could only see his neck and magnificent horns ; for a 

 moment my heart was in my mouth, as the smoke hid 

 the result of my shot, and, to my disgust, saw I had 

 turned him, as I thought, across my left front, fifty yards 

 away, and going like mad, as if hounds were racing 

 him. I aimed well in front of him and pulled my left 

 barrel, and by the merest chance succeeded in breaking 

 his back. One quarter of an inch higher and 1 should 

 have missed him. With a loud whoop I rushed for- 

 ward to finish him with my knife, but he fought and 

 kicked so hard that there was no chance of getting 

 at him without giving him another barrel, and this, 

 with an empty muzzle-loader, was impossible, and I 

 •was in terror lest he should get up and make off. 

 There was neither stick nor stone to be got, and so in 

 despair I hit him on the forehead with the butt of my 

 rifle, and, to my horror and dismay, away went the 

 stock, leaving the barrels in my hand. Pain and 

 pleasure, all mixed up in a heap — delight at having 

 killed my first deer, and the most unenviable feelings 



