196 THE STILL-HUNTER. 



good dog; and even if you have a dog you may still 

 lose the deer or have a heavy task to get it out. 



Do you not see a cattle-trail winding up the side of 

 the next ravine? It leads directly to that little basin 

 in which the deer is. Go down this point out of 

 sight, take that trail, on which you can walk quietly, 

 and follow it to the edge of the basin. 



You soon reach the trail, and behold! there are 

 tracks in it of four or five deer going both ways. 

 Lose no time, though, in examining them. They are 

 all about equally fresh; there is undoubtedly water in 

 that deep gulch far below; the deer you just saw is 

 undoubtedly one of those that made these tracks; 

 that is the up-hill direction, too; you know the rest. 



You speedily conclude that they have been going to 

 water, and that the return trail is the freshest. So 

 going swiftly and silently along the trail you reach 

 the edge of the basin. Peering cautiously over the 

 edge you see nothing. You take a step or two forward, 

 and suddenly from half a dozen different directions 

 comes a medley of crashing brush and bump, bump, 

 bump, bump of hoofs. A few brown hides glimmer for 

 a moment above the brush in glossy curves sur- 

 mounted byvwhite rumps, and vanish amid a storm 

 of random shots from your repeater. 



The same old mistake you made so often in the 

 woods. How often must I warn you about showing 

 yourself too quickly; about thinking you can see 

 everything because the brush is not very heavy; 

 against deciding too hastily that there is nothing in 

 sight. There were five deer there; you saw only one 

 of them at first; yet all the rest were there browsing 

 also; and yet you see the brush is neither thick nor 

 high. Suppose now you had stood back for a few 



