852 
FOREST AND STREAM 
The Deer Bounded Obliquely Across the Ridge to Disappear Behind the Tops of a Spruce Windfall. 
for though the majestic animal stopped and made 
no effort to esdape, Bill returned its gaze in in¬ 
fantile curiosity without thought of the rifle he 
carried in his hand. At that instant Steve’s rifle 
cracked and the deer dropped at Bill’s very feet. 
“Aye Golly! exclaimed the guide as he strode 
toward the carcass. “I never seen anything 
like that before.” 
“Like what?” inquired the wondering Bill. 
“Why, don’t you see,” returned Steve. “You’ve 
shot off both his horns; and it’s a blame pity, too, 
for you don’t often see a nicer head’n that. I’ve 
seen one horn shot off before; but I never 
knowed both of ’em to go.” 
“No wonder he was so delib’rate when he 
went round them tops.” he commented as he 
bent to open the chest cavity of the carcass. 
“See there. You fetched him almost on top of 
the back, jest behind the shoulder. The bullet 
went clean throuh him and came out low under¬ 
neath. You see we was pretty well above Kim: 
I wonder he went as far as he did. It’s surprisin’ 
how you’ll run acrost one now and then, that 
doesn’t know he’s dead. He’s one of the big¬ 
necked, round bodied kind, an’ he ain’t so old 
neither. I can tell that from his face—it’s so 
brown. The old ones git gray in the head. Wait 
till we find them horn—that’ll tell how old he 
was.” 
Tracing the course of the buck as he passed 
behind the windfall, they carefully searched 
for the missing horns that Steve found with little 
trouble. Returning to the carcass he kneeled 
and held the detached members against their 
respective stubs, and sadly shook his head. 
“Too dumbed bad,” he lamented. “They’re 
splintered too much to fix ’em. As fine a four 
year old as ever I.see. His head was jest per¬ 
fect—big, nubbly horns; brown face and a 
bustin’ big neck. But it ain’t no good for 
mountin’ now. That’s hard luck.” Then, as he 
dropped the detached horns and rose to his feet, 
he went on: 
<S I always think it’s best to keep firin’ at a deer 
till he’s down; that way you don’t stand so much 
chance o’ losin’ him. I knowed you hit this 
one the first shot, but o’ course couldn’t tell 
how far he’d go. That’s why I hollered to you 
to keep poppin’ him: but I wish’t I hadn’t now. 
Them shots through the windfall was what 
spoilt the horns, an’ they wasn’t needed. He 
couldn’t a gone ten feet after he poked his head 
round them tops. I needn’t a put that bullet 
through his neck, either.” 
The- loss of the head that, to say the truth, gave 
Bill little or no concern at the moment, was 
compensated for by the plump, fat carcass which 
weighed according to Steve “not a mite less’n 
two hunderd.” Starting to dress it out he observed 
for the first time that Bill’s knees still persisted 
in keeping up a rapid tattoo against his trousers 
legs, and smilingly inquired: 
“Give you the jim-jams, did it? It’s funny 
’bout that. I’ve seen it a good many times. 
You’ll get over that one of these days. You 
don’t appear to be so set up over your first 
deer as some sports I’ve seen.” 
“I’m just wondering how well pleased I am,” 
confessed Bill. “Not so long ago I didn’t think 
I could pull a trigger on a deer; but now that I 
have done it, I am beginning to feel squeamish 
over it.” 
“O, that’s it, is it?” rejoined Steve. “Well, 
I’ve worked out that point this way, an’ I can’t 
see no holes in the way I figger. Deer has got 
to die sometime jest like everything else: that’s 
certain. If they wasn’t shot they’d die of old 
age, an’ that ain’t so easy as gittin’t shot. After 
they git old they grow weak and thin because 
they can’t eat well, and then, likelier’n not the 
foxes git ’em an’ worry ’em, or along comes a 
bear an’ takes ’em in. Almost any way you look 
at it they don’t die peaceful, an’ a bullet’s a 
darned sight easier on ’em than a gang o’ foxes 
or a bear is.” 
Bill was unable to controvert Steve’s logic, 
and accordingly remained silent. By the time 
the carcass was dressed and suspended he re¬ 
gained composure; and when, a few minutes 
later Steve led off on the return tramp to camp. 
Bill even turned with a touch of carnal pride 
to take a look at the trophy hanging there in 
the shadows of the deep woods. 
(To be continued.) 
