THE- MULE 'DEER. 143 



This brought us to the mound, and there, behind'it, lay 

 the Deer, dead, in a posture as striking as that in which she 

 stood sharply defined against the sky. The revulsion of 

 feeling from chagrin to gratification was almost painful. 

 . My son bled her, and we then looked upon her as she lay. 

 Head, neck, and form were in just such position as she 

 might have been in sleeping on her side, while her strong, 

 cinnamon-colored legs were disposed at full length, as if 

 arranged by hand. Her coat had passed from the blackish 

 shade which it takes on after the yellowish summer dress 

 into the steel-mixed, with its satin sheen of the full winter 

 coat. Down her throat was the deep-black band that 

 marks the species, while breast and belly were of broader 

 and deeper black still, till shading into the pure white 

 between the thighs and up on both sides to two inches 

 above the tail. We walked around her in silent admiration. 



"Well, father, I have hunted these Deer for five years 

 now, and that is the handsomest one I ever saw, and you 

 will never shoot such another. She is one of the oldest 

 does — probably eight or ten years old — and in perfect condi- 

 tion. She will weigh near three hundred as she lies there." 

 Then he said, "Now, let us see where you hit her." 



The ball had struck the round spot of the breast directly 

 in the center; had passed between the shoulders, through 

 the heart, and out on the other side. 



"Well," he said, "that is close shooting! I can't shoot 

 like that! But don't you see, father, if you had gone four 

 inches lower you would have missed her altogether? ' ' 



"Bates," I said, "you remind me of a harum-scarum 

 fellow that went from a Massachusetts town into Washing- 

 ton' s army, in the Revolution. He was brought back for 

 treatment, his head furrowed by a British bullet, but the 

 skull not fractured. The minister of the town, meeting 

 him one day, thought it would be a proper occasion for a 

 lesson. He said, solemnly: ' Isaac, did you know that if 

 that bullet had gone an inch lower you would have been 

 in eternity?' 'Ye-e-s,' said Ike; 'and if the d-d-darned 

 thing had g-g-gone an inch higher, it wouldn't have h-i-i-it 



