EXPERIENCES OF A TRAPPER AND HUNTER 
FROM YOUTH TO OLD AGE 
By T. ALEXANDER 
CHAPTER X. 
It was about the middle of September when I arrived at Dr. 
Shrell’s farm in southeast Arkansas. The leaves had begun to change 
their color and deer hunting time was near, so near in fact that I 
could hardly wait until the time came. 1 took Uncle Adam’s old 
rifle one day and mounted the mule, old Beck, that I had used the 
previous winter, placed a large cowbell on the mule and rode into 
the swamp. I don’t think 1 had been out an hour until I saw eight 
or ten deer feeding. I rode, not direct, but on an angle, toward the 
deer, getting nearer to them as I advanced until I was within sixty 
or seventy yards. Old Beck was eating swich cane and rattling the 
bell every time she bit the cane. The deer seemed to pay but little 
attention to us; however, when I thought I was near enough 1 slid 
off of old Beck, keeping the mule between me and the deer. T shot 
one of them and the rest made a jump or two and stopped. I re¬ 
loaded the rifle and fired again—down came another one; the rest 
of them made a few jumps and began to shigh around. I reloaded 
the gun, and taking rest on old Beck’s back, fire and down came the 
third deer. This was the best I had ever done at one time and I was 
certainly elated. I loaded the three deer on old Beck and started 
for the house. Old Adam was on hand as Andrew used him around 
the house. “Well, Boss,” said Adam, “I heard her bark three times 
and I knowed dare was meat for de pap,” adding “If dat Mr. Skin¬ 
ner was here and seed dese three deer he would sink in hi^ boots 
for Skinner was jealous ob you anyway.” 
Uncle Adam took charge of the deer and I spent the remainder 
of the day with Andrew Climan. He and I went all over the farm, 
which brought me in contact with all the niggers and they all had 
some remark to make, expressing themselves in the highest of nigger 
respect. 
The next morning I saddled old Beck and rode to Grady station. 
There I met old Hugh Dennis and a number of my other old ac¬ 
quaintances. Old Hugh, the drinker trapper, said, “Lad, how come 
those Indians didn’t get your scalp?” I told him I had but one 
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