556 
F O R E S T AND S T REAM 
October, 1919 
O UTING ?tanneiits that conform exactly 
with the wants of men who love the ^eat 
outdoors. They resist wind, cold and 
moisture. Made of the same north country wool 
that has made Patrick cloth famous. 
There is no other cloth just like Patrick cloth. 
It is essentially a north country product, made 
of the thick, warm, lonfe-fibre wool from “sheep 
that thrive in the snow.” 
Ask your dealer for Patrick Outing Garments, 
Blankets and Robes. Easily identided by the 
Patrick label. If he does not handle them, let 
us direct you to one who does. 
Send for the 
Patrick Style 
Book, also for 
Elbert Hub- 
bard's Book, 
' BiA^er Than 
V/eather.” 
Free, 
PATRICK- 
DULUTH 
WOOLEN 
MILLS 
No. 2 Ave. O 
Duluth. Minn. 
4 Pure Nurtbern 
fhat Ihri vv in tlwSnvw^ 
than Weather " 
Hunting 
Coats, Vests and Hats 
Made of lieavy 
khaki color duck, 
thoroughly water- 
proof. Coat lia 
innumerahle pock- 
ets and conluroy 
collar. \'est is 
with shell Iooijs. 
— SPECIAL — 
Coat, Style D - $4.50 Vest - 
Khaki Trousers 2.75 Hats - 
fitted 
$1.75 
1.25 
Write for catalogue - Stnd 4e postage 
37 West 125th St.. New York City 
of the mules — not the one I had used a 
few days before. It was many a day 
before we could get her near one again. 
When I had mounted behind the deer, 
Win went ahead and we started for 
camp. 
We were soon in the heavy timber, 
where the storm lost some of its rough- 
ness, and were riding along jauntily, 
when a fair-sized white-tail buck jumped 
from a clump of short pines, and, after a 
few bounds, stopped at about 80 yards, 
no doubt puzzled at the appearance of 
our unusual cavalcade. 
By the time he had stopped. Win was 
on the ground, one knee in the snow, his 
elbow resting on the other. At the shot, 
the deer jumped high in the air, and, 
running swiftly for fifty yards, went 
down. It was up again almost instantly, 
and, after another short run, was down 
again. 
I had noticed something odd-looking 
about the antlers of the deer, and called 
to my brother not to shoot it through the 
head. He also had seen something pe- 
culiar about the horns, and, walking up 
within 30 yards of the deer as it lay 
with legs doubled under it and head 
stretched out on the snow, with ears laid 
back, he shot it through the neck. 
When we came to examine it, we found 
the head to be indeed unusual. Upon one 
side was a perfect horn of four points, 
while upon the other were one of four, 
and another of three. My brother had 
the head mounted, and still has it in his 
possession. We left both deer together, 
for it was no use to try putting one on 
the other mule, and went to camp. 
Ben had returned some time before. 
He had seen the big buck again, and 
he seemed bigger than before. Win 
threatened to get out and get that big 
buck himself, if Ben didn’t quit bragging 
about it, but Ben said he would show him 
tomorrow. 
By bedtime the sky had cleared and the 
wind had gone down. The snow was soft 
and noiseless the next moi’ning, with just 
the tips of the brown tobacco-like rattle- 
weeds showing, but nobody killed the big 
deer that day, nor the next. Although 
conditions were perfect, we hunted early 
and late for a week, without getting an- 
other deer. 
O N the eighth day, I was skirting the 
wall of a rocky canyon, when I 
came upon the perfectly fresh 
track of a fawn. It was well on in the 
afternoon of a warm day, and the track 
in the snow, which was rapidly settling, 
looked as if it had been made within the 
last five minutes. I knew from experi- 
ence that fawns are as hard to outwit as 
the wiliest old buck, but he turned my 
way, and I thought I might as well see 
where he went. 
I had proceeded perhaps a hundred 
yards on the track, which paralleled the 
canyon wall fifty feet from the edge, 
when it was crossed by another larger 
one, which looked equally fresh. I rec- 
ognized it for the track of a wandering 
buck, and, leaving my fawn track for a 
minute, I slipped over for a look into 
the canyon to see if perchance he might 
be still in sight. 
Standing looking down, a restless 
movement in a thick clump of pin-pines 
caught my eye. Partly concealed by a 
large yellow pine, the buck had evident- 
ly just lain down, and it was the tossing 
of his antlers that I had seen. It was a 
choice of a shot at the head and neck 
through the closely standing saplings, or 
the chance of breaking a hind leg below 
the larger tree. The latter mark looked 
better, and, cutting as closely to the 
bark as I dared, I finally pressed the 
trigger. 
Through the smoke of the discharge, I 
had a fieeting glimpse of the dee-r, as he 
sprang from his bed and disappeared 
among the trees. It looked like a clean 
miss, but when I got down to the place, 
I found blood on the track, and saw by 
the scoring of the snow beside it, that I 
had broken a leg. 
There was no time to wait for the deer 
to lie down, for it was already sun- 
down, and I was four miles from camp, 
with the track leading straight away. 
A hunter hates to leave a crippled deer 
in the woods, but when I had followed the 
trail two miles further, darkness com- 
pelled me to give it up for the night. I 
was still a mile from camp, when the 
boys fired a shot, which I answered, and 
twenty minutes later I walked in and sat 
down to the best looking supper I ever 
saw. 
Win had come into camp in the mid- 
dle of the afternoon, and, knowing Ben 
was off to the south, had gone out again 
to try conclusions with the now famous 
big buck. 
Within a mile he found where a big 
deer had jumped from a clump of pines 
on a rocky point, and gone along the 
bench of a densely wooded gulch. The 
wind was up the canyon, so Win had 
kept to the right-hand fork, coming to 
the top of the low dividing ridge a mile 
above. His intention was to hunt out 
the bench with the wind in his favor, 
thinking the buck might be loitering 
somewhere along the line. 
Slipping very slowly to the top, with 
gun cocked and ready, he saw the buck 
standing under the spreading limbs of 
a stunted pine, 70 yards away, looking 
back on his trail. 
The deer fell in his tracks at the shot, 
and, going down to him. Win found he 
had Ben’s big buck. It was not really a 
large deer, weighing in the neighbor- 
hood of 140 pounds, but the antlers, 
thrusting forward, close together, were 
unusually long and heavy. 
We were knocking out our pipes, and 
considering going to bed, when two 
horsemen rode up to our camp-fire. 
They were ranchers from the Wyoming 
foot-hills, going home from somewhere, 
and were the first men we had seen on 
our trip. They rested for an hour, be- 
fore setting out on the unbroken trail, 
telling us something of the grizzly bears 
to be found among the rough spruce-filled 
canyons of the western brakes. 
A number of men had been cerribly 
disfigured in encounters with these sav- 
age animals, in different parts of the 
Hills. 
At the time we started there had been 
a report that a man named Hark Mason 
had been killed by a grizzly, r.'t far from 
the locality in which we inten ] ■' to hunt 
