324 RECREATION. 

A REMARKABLE SHOT. 
WILLIAM HODGSON. 
I had hunted deer in the Adirondacks 
several seasons, and wanted to try for bear. 
When I reached the station I was met by 
my guide, and having provided what I had 
been told was tempting bait for bear, such 
as codfish and Limberger cheese, we started 
for the woods. 
We carried with us 2 bear traps and had 
set one when, going farther up the trail to 
set the other, we came to a meadow. We 
stopped to rest and look over the situation. 
While we were waiting, a big buck walked 
slowly out of the woods, crossed an open- 
ing, and disappeared behind some spruces. 
I had taken aim at him while he was in 
the opening, but he looked so large and had 
such immense antlers that I mistook him 
for an elk, imagining he had escaped from 
some game preserve. 
After he passed out of sight I made up 
my mind I was mistaken and that the ani- 
mal was a deer. He was walking straight 
away from me when he entered the bushes. 
Aiming about 6 inches higher than I 
thought the line of his back would be, and 
lining up on the direction he had taken 
when he entered the bushes, I pulled. The 
guide had not seen the deer, but now we 
both saw him jump from the thicket into 
the standing timber. The guide said he 
thought I had hit the deer. 
We went into the thicket, and found 
blood on the leaves. Following the trail, 
we soon found big clots of blood. We sat 
down and waited about 15 minutes, hoping 
the deer would lie down. Then we took 
up the trail again and followed it by the 
blood about 300 yards, when we found the 
animal, lying on the ground, breathing hard, 
as if he were dying. I wanted to make sure 
of him that time, and as I could not get a 
good aim from where I stood, I stepped 
carefully to one side, but when I reached a 
point whence I could get a good look at 
him, I confess my heart failed me. 
The deer raised his head, looked at me 
with his big brown eyes, and was such a 
beautiful creature that I simply had not the 
courage to shoot him as he lay, probably 
on his death bed. While I stood there 
studying the unfortunate creature, he 
jumped. I took a quick aim at his neck 
and pulled again, but there was no report. 
For years I had been using a hammerless 
shot gun, and so had forgotten to cock 
my rifle. The guide laughed at me, and I 
would have sold out cheap at that moment; 
but few words were exchanged between us. 
We waited another half hour, when the 
guide said it was time to go; that the deer 
would either be dead by that time, or clear 
out of the country. We started again on 
the trail, and at that juncture it began to 
rain. This was indeed discouraging, for we 
realized that it would soon wash the blood 
from the leaves, and we should be unable to 
follow the trail. We walked as fast as we 
could, but were forced to depend on the 
impression of the deer’s hoofs on the soft 
_ the first shot. 
ground, as the blood had entirely disap- 
peared. We were 8 or Io miles from camp, 
night was approaching, and the rain was 
increasing in volume. 
The guide proposed going to camp at 
once and coming back in the morning, but 
I said that would be entirely useless; that 
we could not find the track at all by that 
time; so I insisted on following the trail a 
little farther. 
We pressed on, but soon lost the trail 
again and made a wide circuit in order to 
pick it up. After a while we found the 
track of a big buck, but were not sure it 
was the one we had been following. Still, 
we followed. It seemed as if this deer were 
perfectly healthy, for he was making big, 
long jumps. I said to myself as we walked 
along that I would give $5 to see only 
one drop of blood. 
After following the trail about half a 
mile we again came up to the deer, and 
found him lying on a little knoll. I felt 
sure he was dead, but thought it best to 
put another bullet in him. This I did, but 
when we walked up to him we found that 
was useless, as he was already dead when 
we reached him. 
He was truly a magnificent animal, and 
we estimated he would weigh 250 pounds. 
My first shot had gone through one rib 
and through his lungs. 
We went back to the starting point the- 
next day, and paced the distance from where 
I stood to where the deer was when I fired 
It proved to be 144 yards. 
I offered the guide $10 to get the entire 
carcass to the railway station, but he said 
it could not be done, as we were 12 miles 
from there, so I had to content myself with 
the saddles and the head. The latter I have 
‘mounted, and it is indeed a beauty. 
That lucky shot broke up my bear trap- 
ping, for the weather was warm and I had 
to bring the venison out at once, in order 
to save it. I considered a deer in the ice 
box worth more than 2 bear in the woods. 

“There,” said the tailor, “that suit cer- 
certainly ‘fits you perfectly.” 
“Yes, indeed, you may justly feel proud 
of that, *: replied the customer. “It’s a 
credit to you.” 
“Well—er—I hope you won’t forget it’s 
a debit to you.”—Philadelphia Press. 

I have 3 sons. One is in Congress, one is 
a yellow journalist, and one is in jail. 
Oh, well, don’t despair; some day they 
may all be in jail—Mail and Express. 

Will J. L. Lancaster, who wrote the 
article entitled “Juno, the Retriever,” pub- 
lished in January, 1904, RECREATION, please 
let me know his address? 
J. A. Martin, Box 356, Austin, Tex. 

“They tell me Skinnem is out for all there 
is in it.” 
“No; his customers are out for all they 
put in it,’—Cincinnati Commercial-Tribune. 
