168 BIG GAME -OF NORTH AMERICA. 



never been a kind of shooting to suit me. It is entirely- 

 chance, and where one animal is killed, more by far go away 

 wounded to die. I like the fair, clean shot, when, if I hit, 

 I kill; if I miss, the Deer can live on unharmed. For 

 once, I thought I would try the ' ' pumping ' ' system. Rais- 

 ing my rifle some two feet above the head of the largest 

 doe, I fired, hoping that, somewhere, in the drop to the 

 shoulder, I might hit her. The whole band gave a new 

 spring at the shot, and I elevated and fired again. Nothing 

 dropped, and all swept out of sight. 



It was getting dusk, and I had turned for camp, when I 

 saw, far up on the foot-hill to my right, a single doe moving 

 in my own direction, but for the brow of the ridge. She 

 passed over it and out of sight. It was three hundred feet, 

 and a hill so sbeep that I must pull myself along by bushes 

 part of the way to get up. But she may have stopped 

 just over the crest, and by careful work I may get a shot 

 yet. At any rate, the wooded, shallow canon over the 

 ridge will make a pleasant walk home. I take the climb. 

 Toes, hands, and knees, bushes, the butt of my, rifle for a 

 brace — all come in requisition before I reach the top,, just 

 short of which I stop to get breath and wipe my steaming 

 face. Gradually the breath gets normal, the nerves grow 

 steady, and I move slowly to the top. 



It is now quite dusk, and but for the height of the ridge, 

 I should not have light to shoot. As I reached the rounded 

 crest and peered over, there, not forty feet from me, was 

 my Deer, lying down in the deep grass for the night. I 

 sighted for her shoulder, through the grass, and at the shot 

 she rolled over on her side, dead. It was the very doe I 

 had shot at first, for there was a wound in the neck, and 

 she had stolen off alone by herself for the night, perhaps 

 to die — a new argument against "pumping," for it was the 

 merest chance my getting her, as a feather's weight would 

 have turned me from climbing the hill at all, and, as with 

 hundreds of others that are shot on the pumping system, 

 the coyotes would have had her before morning. She was 

 of the largest size, and a noble piece of game. When I 



