I could see at a glance that this would be folly as it would endanger 
the life of Climan and the dogs as well. Skinner yelled to Climan 
to turn the buck loose but Climan said he couldn t. The buck then 
had kicked the seat out of his pants and ripped one pants leg open 
and was still pawing and kicking at him until Climan realized he 
would be in more danger to let go than to hold on. Skinner and i 
realized this also so Skinner hastily ran around behind Climan and 
reaching from in back of him slit the buck’s throat. Climan kept a 
firm hold until the buck fell, then he let go and began to examine 
himself to learn, if possible, just how much he was hurt. Though the 
deer had done no real serious damage he had cut several gashes in 
Climan’s flesh. This convinced me that the advice of the old Ten¬ 
nesseans was right when they had told me “ Never to take hold of a 
wounded deer.” 
Believe me. though. I was tickled because we finally grounded 
our deer, because it was my first. We loaded him on the mule and 
started for home. As Climan was leading the mule through some thick 
trees the head of the buck struck a tree and horned the mule in the 
flanks. The mule gave one lunge forward, kicked at Climan, who 
immediately let go of the rein, and away he went, bucking and bellow¬ 
ing like a cow. We all followed on a run and soon came upon the 
saddle and buck all in a heap but the mule was out of sight. There 
was nothing for us to do then but to carry the saddle and deer our¬ 
selves. We arrived home, with our burden, about noon and the niggers 
all gathered around my deer. An old nigger said, “Hoo killt dat dere 
deer?” I told him I did. He looked at me in surprise and said, “Wid 
dat short shotgun?” T said. “Yes.” He said, “He shua must hab 
been sleepin’ and you slipped up on hem. Dat gun won’t shoot more 
dan twenty feet ’cause I took it huntin’ one day and shot all my 
amunishion and didn’t tetch a hair. Youse certainly must be some 
hunta to kill anything wid dat gun.” 
The niggers took charge of dressing the deer as they always 
considered this their duty. 
After that excitement I had to settle down to a week of cotton 
picking but, as was inevitable, the next Sunday rolled around, which 
was set for another deer hunt. In the meantime I had struck up an 
acquaintance with an old black nigger by the name of Uncle Adam. 
Uncle Adam had one of those old Kentucky cap and ball muzzle load¬ 
ing rifles. I asked him to loan me his rifle. He said, “Ise doesn’t 
loan my rifle, but beings as youse took that short shotgun and killed 
a five-pinter I am gwine to break my rules and you can take my gun,” 
adding, “and wid dis gun youse won’t hab to slip up on dem when 
dev is sleepin’ eider.” 
Uncle Adam’s gun was about five feet high and weighed 12 
pounds. It had two triggers—one the hair trigger. It was a bird 
for those days. 
Skinner and I were off Sunday morning for my second deer hunt. 
I proposed to Skinner that we separate as soon as we had reached the 
hunting grounds and I made up my mind that this time I was going 
to use my best judgment about hunting and it.certainly wasn’t walk¬ 
ing in the most open places, noisily as possible like a wooden man, 
— 34 — 
