sometimes a lively conversation and other times just a thoughtful 
dreamy silence. 
A deer hunt was set for the following day and the next morning 
there were twelve real Indians, Bill, Henry and myself, ready for the 
hunt. \\ e rode about three miles when a young doe jumped. I fired 
and as luck would have it she dropped at the crack of my rifle. One 
old Indian said, “White Indian heap big chief, killum first deer.” 
We took the entrails out and swung the deer on a tree and were on our 
way for another. We rode about a mile further and dismounted, tied 
our ponies and an old Indian, “Pe Re Ashe”—as I learned his name 
was, began to point the way we were to hunt, dividing us in pairs. 
Bill and I were to go together, which pleased us as I had hunted with 
Bill until we understood each other well. We did not have to go far 
until we saw good deer signs. Bill said, “Here we separate, you take 
this ridge and I will take the one to the left. This was agreeable and 
we separated. In about thirty minutes I heard the bark of Bill’s gun. 
I looked in the direction of the noise and saw a bunch of deer running 
toward me. Knowing that they would check up and stop when they 
reached the top of the ridge, I cocked my gun and stood watching 
with both eyes to see the deer when they reached the top of the ridge. 
I stood for possibly two minutes when I heard them in the leaves 
below me. I advanced a little using an oak tree as a blind. As I 
peeped from behind the tree there they came in a string, some walk¬ 
ing, some trotting. There was a very large buck in the bunch. I took 
careful aim at his front shoulder and at the crack of the gun he fell. 
The others ran and although I could probably have shot another I did 
not try as there was quite a chance of missing and I knew the quality 
of a liunter was judged by the number of shots he fired and the 
amount of game he killed in proportion. Having the two deer to my 
credit I felt safe, I would not be beaten bad. I heard several shots 
fired by the Indians and was sure the hunt was a success. I knew I 
was satisfied with my kill. I took a seat on a log. I knew I would come 
just as near to killing another one by sitting still and letting it come 
to me as I would by walking around as this bunch showed me that I 
was on a regular deer crossing. I guess I sat there a full hour when a 
fine buck appeared before me. He walked so cautiously, he acted 
more like a spirit than a deer. He walked up on top of the ridge and 
looked back over his footsteps. I had such a good shot, I thought I 
would make it a fancy one. I aimed at the base of the ear and at the 
crack of the gun he dropped. I walked over toward him and started to 
cut his throat. The deer gave a kick and knocked my knife from 
my hand and I never did find it. The deer jumped to his feet and then 
I took aim with my rifle and shot him squarely in the forehead, and 
started looking around for my knife. As I was looking old Pe Re Ashe 
walked up. He said to me: “You killum deer, I trailum two mile.” 
I told the old Indian that the deer had kicked my knife out of my hand 
and I could not finish it so he handed me his knife with which to 
clean the deer. I showed Pe Re Ashe the other buck I had killed. He 
said, ‘ ‘ Pretty good, me killum one deer, one turkey. ” Pe Re Ashe and 
I returned to where we had staked our ponies. There we found Bill and 
the rest of the bunch waiting. The question was asked as to how many 
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