TWO DEER AT ONE SHOT. 



F. W. M. 



In November Recreation, " Quaker 

 City " says he never knew a deer to drop 

 dead in its tracks, unless shot through the 

 brain or backbone. I spent one winter in 

 Wyoming, near Fort Fetterman, and killed 

 12 or 15 deer. Three of the number never 

 made a jump after being shot, and they 

 were not shot through the brain or back- 

 bone, either. The first deer I ever killed 

 was a doe. She, with 2 other deer, had 

 been driven from a ravine. When I saw 

 them, they were climbing the side of a 

 gulch, in single file, a long distance away. 

 I was shooting a Sharp's rifle, and at the 

 first shot saw the dirt fly, 6 or 8 feet below 

 them. They did not seem frightened, but 

 stopped a moment and then went on. I 

 elevated the sight a notch, and held ahead 

 of the doe. As the rifle cracked, down 

 went my deer. I got in another shot as 

 the others went over the ridge, but missed. 

 Going to the place where the doe lay I 

 found I had broken her neck. 



Some time after that, I was hunting 

 along a small stream that runs into the 

 North Platte river. Seeing plenty of deer 

 signs, I tied my horse, and started up the 

 stream on foot. I soon jumped a yearling 

 white tail deer, but he was too quick for 

 me. In another patch of brush I started 

 him again, but did not get a shot. This 

 made me more careful, and I followed him 

 as quietly as I could; stopping every few 

 rods, and keeping a good lookout. As I 

 came around a bend, I saw, about 200 feet 

 away, the head of a big white tail buck. I 



fired quickly. He did not get up, but did 

 lots of thrashing and kicking. When he 

 stopped kicking, I went to him, and found 

 I had shot a little too low. The ball had 

 passed through his nose, and into his neck. 

 Some time after, I went to the hills East 

 of Casper, looking for black tail deer. I 

 saw a band of 9 disappearing over a small 

 divide, a good half mile away. I rode to 

 where I had last seen them; then dis- 

 mounted, and leading my horse, followed 

 the ridge. I had not travelled far, when 

 looking down a gulch, I saw the whole 

 band standing not more than 150 yards 

 ahead of me, with a big buck broadside 

 toward me. Aiming back of the shoulder, 

 I let him have it. At the report of the 

 gun, my horse jerked back, but I saw my 

 deer fall. I took another shot at the band 

 as they disappeared; doing them no harm 

 however. On going down to where the 

 deer lay, what was my surprise to find a 

 big doe, shot in the neck. I said to myself, 

 " If that was not a poor shot, I never made 

 one." I knew I had held on the buck. I 

 stepped to one side to find a stone to 

 sharpen my knife on, before cutting the 

 deer's throat. While looking for a stone, 

 I was amazed to find my buck lying in 

 the long, dry grass. After examining him, 

 I found the ball had gone through him, 

 before killing the doe. She had been hit in 

 the neck, and dropped in her tracks. The 

 buck had made a few jumps down the hill 

 after being shot. I have always counted 

 that the luckiest shot I ever made. 



LAUNCHING THE SHIP. 

 Edward W. Mason. 



How gallantly she sits beside the wave 

 Waiting the signal that shall make her free! 

 With rigging rightly taut, and colors brave, 

 Ready to dash in triumph to the sea. 

 Her ways are chosen, rightfully inclined, 

 And busy men are ready with their aid 

 To give the virgin ship to wave and wind, — 

 Another sinew in the great arm of trade. 

 Wedge up! knock down the shores! she 



starts! 

 Gently at first, as if a little shy, 

 Till, gathering impetus, she seaward darts, 

 The firm earth trembling as she thunders 



The opening wave receives her in his arms, 

 And the old Salt is master of her charms. 

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