HUNTING IN THE OPEN AND IN TIMBER. 219 



go to that little rise or bench there about fifty yards 

 closer to him; but stay there and wait. 



You reach the bench, and the glistening points are 

 still there, surging up and down, and shining more 

 brightly than ever. 



You found out yesterday that you were not yet 

 over the buck ague, and you are now getting another 

 lesson in it. You begin to get terribly restless, and 

 fancy you know just where his body is. I might as 

 well tell a drowning man to have patience until I can 

 build a boat to rescue him. Your desire to shoot is 

 worse than the murderer's secret, and kicks and ham- 

 mers against your perspiring ribs, until you can no 

 longer resist the temptation. 



The rifle cracks, and all is still. The glistening 

 points are gone, but there was no crash of brush or 

 bump of bounding hoofs. Killed, of course, you think, 

 as you hasten to the spot. After a long search you 

 find a few fresh tracks, and see where he has bitten 

 the leaves from the brush. A close inspection shows 

 tracks leading away through the brush, but there is 

 no blood, no hair, no plunging jumps. Of course you 

 wonder if you hit him. But you will never know. 

 Possibly you did; but probably you did not. Never 

 take such a shot as that but wait patiently for a bet- 

 ter one. The chances of a better one are greater than 

 of hitting by guesswork. He just dropped his head 

 and skulked quietly off. 



Sadly pondering the lesson you have just learned, 

 you lounge along for a quarter of a mile or so, when 

 suddenly you see a low dark object some distance 

 ahead. Something peculiar about its shape and color 

 arrests your attention; directly a head with branching 

 antlers rises from the ground in front of it; and in a 



