404 THE DEER OF AMERICA. 
gun had been in unexperienced hands, I would not have been in 
Stockton’s place, and I was impatient with the Indian that he 
would not give me a shot before we got so near, but I now saw 
if we had been ten yards farther off the carcass would have sunk 
out of reach. When the trophy was secured, the Indian gave a 
whoop, such as only an Indian can give, though I must confess 
there were some brave attempts to imitate it right then and 
there. At the death, we were scarcely a quarter of a mile from 
the landing, and in full hearing of the camp, and it was a sight 
worth seeing to see our two companions and the three Indians, 
all of whom were in camp when the shots were fired, come rush- 
ing down to the beach to see what it all meant. It was slow 
towing the deer through the lily pads, which extended out for fifty 
yards or more. Before we landed, the three Indians on shore 
rushed into the water, seized and dragged the deer to the bank. 
He must have been a great warrior, for all the points on his 
antlers were broken off. He was a big deer, and a beautiful 
sight as he lay there upon the green grass. But I have spoken 
of his remarkable size in another and more appropriate place. 
That was one of those fortunate but unexpected chances which, 
however, often occur, and which the discreet hunter will be 
always prepared for. It would be difficult to recall a finer after- 
noon’s sport, or one with more satisfactory results. 
