104 THE STILL-HUNTER. 



What graceful form! What glossy vest! 

 What massive neck! What brawny chest! 

 What proud defiance seem to shed 

 Those antlers o'er his shapely head! 

 How in the sun they flash and shine 

 From rugged base to polished tine!" 



" Phew ! " said the buck, with lofty bound 



That scattered dirt and leaves around; 



Then skipped across the field of view, 



Waved with his flag a fond adieu 



To his admirer's ravished eye, 



Just as the hounds came foaming by. 



" But where's my gun ? He's gone! Oh, thunder! 

 How could I ever make such blunder! 

 It looked so fine to see him run 

 I quite forgot I had a gun." 



Here now is your animal in plain sight. It will 

 pass you on a slanting course about twenty-five yards 

 to your right. If you were an experienced shot you 

 could hit it while moving; but being a novice you had 

 better make it halt so as to be sure of it. Say Mah! 

 plainly and distinctly, but not too loudly. 



Presto ! what a change ! Mah ! is about the sound 

 of a deer's bleat. At the sound the awkward-looking 

 thing is resolved, as by the stroke of an enchanter's 

 wand, into all the grace and symmetry of the artist's 

 deer. It stands in the light of the rising sun with 

 sleek and shiny coat, rotund with fatness ; its dark 

 eyes are turned inquiringly toward you; its delicate 

 ears are turned forward to catch the slightest sound. 

 It is a fine, full-grown doe, only thirty yards away, 

 and broadside at that. The picture-deer exactly ! 



The little story has had its intended effect, and has 

 kept off that form of what is called "buck ague." 



