A DEER ACCIDENT. 
B, BOULDER, 
No country of an equal area, easily acces- 
sible to Arizona sportsmen, fulfills so well 
as Loconino county the conditions neces- 
sary for mule deer hunting. The deer 
are there by the dozen, and mighty wild. 
So much the better, when one wishes real 
sport. One cold morning I started out 
from a little town in that county to take a 
deer hunt up in the mountains. The snow 
lay about 3 feet deep everywhere and there 
was a cold wind blowing from the North. 
We made camp 40 miles back in the moun- 
tains in a canyon. 
The morning after arriving we started 
for the highest mountain in the immediate 
vicinity. Reaching the foot of the moun- 
tain, we saw plenty of deer tracks, and 
formed our plan for the day’s hunt by them. 
My chum, Sam, was to go in a Westerly 
direction, and when half way around, start 
for the top, while I was to go around the 
other side, and when half way was to sit 
down and wait for Sam to come over the 
top and meet me. Sam was armed with a 
40-60 Marlin repeater, while I had a 12- 
gauge Winchester shot gun with buckshot. 
I used the latter from necessity, not choice. 
Reaching my destination, I heard Sam 
shoot 4 times in quick succession, and I 
knew he had found deer. In another sec- 
ond I saw something go behind a pile of 
brush at the top of the hill, but could not 
make out what it was. I started toward 
the object, when Sam shot again, and a big 
buck lurched forward and fell, to rise no 
more. Three more came tearing down the 
hill, 50 feet at a jump, straight toward me. 
I raised on one knee, covered the big 
bunch of horns in the lead, pulled the trig- 
ger with a quick aim, and another buck 
jumped his last. Another buck, bigger than 
any I had seen that year, succeeded in jump- 
ing behind a pile of brush and thus escaped 
me, although I shot twice. 
About that time Sam came in view at the 
top of the hill, and was surprised to learn 
that his deer lay within 30 feet of where he 
stood, for he thought he had missed, as the 
deer made one jump after he fired, and then 
was over the hill, out of his sight. I told 
him I had another deer wounded and wished 
to give chase, and asked him to lend me his 
rifle, which he willingly did. 
Then I started to trail my deer. Of 
course, I knew better than to follow his 
track altogether, so I worked around in 
the canyons awhile and came out on a bit 
of hill ground which he had crossed. I 
had found no blood, but I would not give 
up. I worked till afternoon, and was just 
25 
ready to call it a bad job, when I saw 
through a gap in the pines my deer, stand- 
ing still, entirely unaware of my presence. 
I crawled within 90 yards, and sent a 40-60 
on its way for the buck’s shoulder. He 
went down, but quick as lightning he was 
on his feet again. I was ready for him,. 
and to make sure, I raised the rifle to my 
face, took careful aim, and pressed the 
trigger. Then there was a deafening re- 
port, like a charge of dynamite. For a 
few minutes I was paralyzed. My right 
hand hung limp at my side, and felt as if it 
was over a hot blaze. I quickly raised it to 
see what could be the cause of this, and, to 
my horror, my hand was nothing but a lot 
of mangled flesh and bone, and was bleed- 
ing frightfully. I did not lose my presence 
of mind, but took a white silk handkerchief 
from my pocket and quickly bound it around 
my wrist to stop the flow of blood. I 
thought of Sam, but I knew he could do 
nothing for me, so I started for camp, 
which was over 4 miles away. I will not 
attempt to describe my suffering as I trav- 
eled that 4 miles, down deep canyons, over 
hills, through brush and deep snow. At 
last I came in sight of camp. I do not 
know when a camp looked better; it seemed 
to me the only place in the world. I was 
weak, black clouds passed before my eyes, 
my mind left me. 
After a time I could see Sam bending 
over me, trying to force some brandy be- 
tween my teeth. At last I was able to sit up 
and talk to him. He had heard me shoot, 
had gone to where I crossed a ravine, had 
seen the blood on the snow, mistrusted that 
something was wrong, and had followed my 
trail to camp. 
We made up our minds to leave. I shall 
never forget that night’s ride, but never 
was a team driven over that 40 miles in 
less time. We made it in 9 hours, and it 
was over as rough a road as any one would 
care to travel. 
After a week, against the orders of the 
doctor, I again pulled out with Sam for 
the scene of the accident. When we arrived 
there, I could see the cause of the rifle’s 
exploding. It occurred in the magazine. 
It was caused by the spring in the tube, 
the cap in the end of one of the shells, 
and a bullet in the one directly behind the 
former. Anyone well acquainted with the 
Marlin magazine rifle can understand. It 
was mere luck that I did not havé my head 
blown off. * 
The deer we had killed the week before 
were in good shape, being well frozen. 
