MY TWENTY-TWO POINT BUCK 



13 



short time he was sullen and disposed to act 

 ill-tempered at my intrusion. I [e soon mel- 

 lowed, however, and became social, finally 

 assuring me 1 would be welcome as long 

 as I wished to stay. He told me I should 

 find fair hunting" in the locality; deer were 

 often seen near his house. He would he 

 busy for a day or two, but in case I were 

 unsuccessful, he would go out with me. 

 He cautioned me not to go too far away, 

 saying, " Stranger easy get lost here." 



During the evening my host entertained 

 me by relating Indian legends, tales of ad- 

 venture, and incidents of hunting life. 

 When bed-time came, deer-skins and 

 blankets were spread out on the floor. I 

 was assigned a place at one end of the small 

 one-roomed shanty. I had my own blank- 

 ets, and after rolling up in them, an- 

 nounced myself ready for sleep. The others 

 soon went to bed. A fawn had been cap- 

 tured by one of the girls early in the sum- 

 mer, and it was the pet of the whole family. 

 The little animal was tame, and at evening 

 was let into the house. It would then nestle 

 down close to some member of the family 

 for the night. 



As we all lay stretched out on the floor, 

 I no longer regarded myself as an intruder, 

 but felt I had really been adopted into the 

 family. 



We were up by daybreak. After break- 

 fast, I started into the woods. I traveled 

 Northward, finally reaching a well-worn 

 game-trail. This I slowly followed, winding 

 through the dense forest, until nearly a 

 mile from the cabin. After ascending a 

 small hill, I sat down on a log, near the 

 trail, to watch for game. 



The morning was lowering and gloomy. 

 In a short time rain began to fall, and I 

 shifted my position to the sheltering boughs 

 of a balsam. The wind moaned through 

 the treetops, sending a melancholy wail 

 over the land, and the scattering drops of 

 rain fell through the overhanging boughs. 

 As I sat there in meditation, a tall dead 

 tree, that had withstood the blasts of many 

 years, but which was now weakened with 

 decay, toppled over, and fell with a crash. 

 A deer, startled by the noise, sprang from 

 its bed near by, and came bounding toward 

 me. It was a buck with a fine set of horns. 



So nearly was his course toward me, that 

 for a moment I wondered if he were not 

 mad, and was really charging me. When 

 he reached the foot of the hill — less than 60 

 yards away — the old fellow stopped under 

 cover of a small hemlock tree, turned partly 

 around and looked back, as if to see what 

 had alarmed him. 



Now was my chance; but my heart was 

 beating sledge-hammer strokes. Slowly the 

 rifle came up, and as the front sight showed 

 against the shoulder of the deer, my finger 

 pulled convulsively. The buck went down 

 with the report. After making a few frantic 

 efforts to rise, he rolled over. The 300- 



"THE TROPHY IS A GREAT ATTRACTION 

 TO MY LITTLE SON." 



grain bullet had entered the shoulder, pass- 

 ing out at the base of the neck, on the op- 

 posite side. 



Although I regarded my success as being 

 due more to good luck than to skill, I could 

 not but feel pleased; for my buck was the 

 largest I had ever seen. The antlers were 

 exceptionally well-developed, having in all, 

 including the anterior projections at base of 

 horns, 22 points. 



I finally succeeded in hanging my deer 

 on a bent sapling. After disembowelling 

 him, I started to return. The rain had now 

 changed to sleet and snow. When I reached 

 the cabin, the half-breed had also come in. 



Late in the afternoon, despite the weath- 

 er, we went out with a pony and brought in 

 my buck. I now began to think of home, 

 for I was satisfied to quit. A bargain was 

 made with the half-breed to take me to the 

 station. Early the next morning the ponies 

 were hitched up, and with baggage and 

 buck we rode to town. Arriving at the 

 station, I at once weighed the deer — 287 

 pounds, the scales showed. The head was 

 then shipped for mounting. 



The trophy is a great attraction to my lit- 

 tle son, who occasionally takes an imagi- 

 nary deer hunt on his father's lap. 



For those whose tastes turn toward the 

 chase, it is hoped that the picture of the 

 mounted head will revive old memories. It 

 may serve to recall pleasant associations 

 and fond recollections of some camp-fire 

 long since gone out; or to render more 

 vivid the reminiscences of a pleasant out- 

 ing in grand old forest regions, where nat- 

 ure charmed and hearts were free from 

 care. 



