HOW I GOT EVEN WITH MY GUIDE. 



FRANK SEAMAN. 



Some years ago I went to California to 

 visit a brother. After I had been there a 

 few days he asked me if I would not like 

 to go out and kill a deer. I said I had 

 often felt that way, and if there was any 

 chance for a shot I was willing to do any 

 amount of hard work to get it. He said 

 there would be little work about it. All 

 that was necessary was to drive to the Hot 

 Springs in the mouth of the canyon, a few 

 miles from there, where we could put up 

 at a comfortable country hotel, and get 

 our deer within a mile of the house. 



We drove out in the afternoon and en- 

 gaged a guide. He said he knew all about 

 where to put us, and that we were sure 

 to get shots; that there was a salt lick a 

 mile from the house, where deer came 

 every night. The moon was nearly full 

 then and the time was just right for that 

 kind of hunting. He said he had built 

 scaffolds in 3 different trees, on opposite 

 sides of a small lake which the (Jeer were 

 in the habit of using. 



We went out just before sundown. He 

 put me on what he considered the best 

 scaffold. Then he took my brother a mile 

 down the lake and posted him in another 

 tree. He said he would himself occupy 

 still another scaffold. The moon came up 

 brightly over the hill, and I could see 

 everything, distinctly, within 100 yards of 

 me. The guide had shown me the lake 

 nearest my stand, and sure enough the 

 ground was tramped up as if a herd of 

 sheep had been there. I felt sure there 

 could be no doubt about my getting a 

 shot, so I waited patiently until about jo 

 o'clock. Then I saw a fog coming up the 

 mountain. The guide and the hotel man 

 had told us the fog would be along about 

 that time, and that it came every night; so 

 Ave had taken our overcoats with us and 

 hoped to be comfortable. 



The fog finally reached my tree. It 

 seemed to travel on the ground, and I 

 could see it gradually cover the earth be- 

 neath me. Then it climbed slowly up the 

 tree until it reached my feet. I could feel 

 the dampness through my shoes in a min- 

 ute. Then I felt the measly stuff climb- 

 ing up my legs, inside of my trousers. 

 Then my feet and legs began to get cold. 

 Finally the fog crawled up under my over- 

 coat and played hide and seek up and 

 down my spine. I shivered like a corn- 

 stalk in a Kansas zephyr. My teeth chat- 

 tered like a horse fiddle, and I felt the mar- 

 row in my bones slowly congealing. Did 

 you ever get caught up a tree in a Cali- 

 fornia fog? No? Well, I hope you never 

 may, but I wish the fellow who stole my 

 dog might be. 



The guide had told me he would come 

 back to the trees, pick us up, and take us 

 in just before the fog came, or, at least, 

 within a few minutes after; so all this time 

 I was anxiously listening for footsteps or 

 for voices, but none came. 



After waiting what seemed a long time 

 I struck a match and looked at my watch. 

 It was 11 o'clock. Soon after this I heard 

 footsteps and rustlings among the brush, 

 and felt that at last my deliverer was com- 

 ing. I listened, and was soon convinced 

 it was not a man, but most likely a deer. 

 It might of course be a bear; for we had 

 been told there were some in that country. 

 I had been tempted to climb down from 

 the tree and chase myself up and down the 

 lake in order to get warm; but when I 

 thought of the stories I had heard of 

 Sierra Nevada grizzlies, I concluded the 

 perch was a pretty good place after all. 



Occasionally the fog would break a little 

 and the moon would come through. At 

 each of these times I would look at my 

 watch. The wheels seemed to have grown 

 rusty and the hands moved slowly. Fi- 

 nally they got around to 12 o'clock. 



Meantime I had heard more noises 

 among the brush, and each of these made 

 me more contented to stay in the tree. 

 Finally I yelled like a lost tenderfoot, 

 hoping to make either my brother or the 

 guide, or both, hear me. I waited several 

 minutes for a response, and, getting none, 

 yelled again. Then I let out several more 

 yells, each stronger and louder than the 

 others; but the only response I got was 

 the cracking of brush and the thumping 

 of hoofs on the ground, as some fright- 

 ened deer went up the hill. 



My bones were aching so that I seriously 

 wondered whether they would not break 

 when I undertook to move. I would have 

 given all the money I could borrow, from 

 all my friends, to have been in the little 

 country tavern, tucked in a good warm 

 bed; but longing for luxuries does not 

 bring them. If it did we would all be rich. 

 The hours dragged on, one after another, 

 like centuries. 



Finally, about 4 o'clock, I heard human 

 footsteps. The fog had just begun to lift 

 and I saw the guide coming. Possibly 

 some men would have received him kindly, 

 and would not have said anything harsh 

 to him, but I am not built that way. I am 

 glad no ladies were there to hear my 

 remarks. I asked the guide where in hades 

 he had been all night. He said he had 

 been watching at the upper lajce. I asked 

 why he didn't come and get us and take 

 us home before the fog came, as he had 

 agreed. He said there were deer close 



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