FOREST AND STREAM 
241 
the dining-room, and it was decided to move to 
the sitting-room, where the large fire-place, all 
ablaze with big burning logs, looked inviting. 
They sat down and began to spin yarns. The 
proprietor, who always had a pipe between his 
lips, related the story of how he had shot his 
first bear; Cromwell told how, twenty years ago, 
one early spring, he had hunted on snow shoes. 
Then some of the party replenished the fire, 
others got hold of some old sporting magazines, 
and Morse took to writing letters, while Miller 
was snoozing in his arm-chair. 
Every one of them was glad to be indoors. 
And the proprietor passed the remark that he 
did not envy the tenderfoot out in the woods. 
At noon the party felt hungry and had a good 
hot lunch. After this they returned to their arm¬ 
chairs in front of the fire-place, and almost all 
of them fell asleep, lulled by the terrific storm 
which seemed to have grown more furious than 
in the morning. 
When the big black clock on the mantel struck 
four, the proprietor refilled 'his pipe, and re¬ 
marked that he was getting uneasy a'bout the long 
absence of the young fellow. He confessed that 
at first he had believed Robins would return in 
an hour or two. Just then, somebody’s heavy 
tread was heard stepping on the porch, then some 
vigorous stamping of feet knocking off the snow, 
and then, a glance through, the window showed 
every one that it was the young fellow. Some 
of them smiled sarcastically, others did not even 
deign to prolong the glance at him, when he 
opened the door and entered the room. 
He immediately approached the fire-place where 
he relieved himself of the rifle, hat, and macki¬ 
naw. He then proceeded to remove his mocas¬ 
sins which were clinging tenaciously to his wet 
clothing. 
“Well,” asked the proprietor, by way of 
politeness, “did you see that big buck of which 
we were speaking?” 
“Yes,” came the laconic reply. 
“Did you see him? Did you have a good look 
at him?” 
“Indeed.” 
“Did you do him any damage?” 
“Sure thing.” 
Every one pricked his ears and turned his 
eyes in the direction of the young fellow who 
was working hard to extricate himself ’from his 
wet stockings. 
“You did him some damage?” came eagerly 
from the proprietor. “What is the damage?” 
“I killed him.” 
“The proprietor jumped up. The others 
seemed half amused, half annoyed. 
“Where is he?” came the incredulous question 
from the proprietor. 
“Out in the woods. I dressed him and left 
him right there. I know I am quite strong, but 
I could not lift that fellow. I blazed my way 
back and in the morning we will go for him. 
Gee! he sure was a monster. I counted thirty- 
one points and part of his antlers are like those 
of the caribou. His left hinddioof is really de¬ 
formed. You gentlemen were right as to that. 
I would not be surprised to find out that he 
weighs not less than three hundred pounds.” 
The last accurate description and the quite 
assuring tone convinced his listeners that some¬ 
thing out of the ordinary had occurred. They 
would not admit that it was the Monster, or at 
least, they hoped it was not. But the air of de¬ 
preciation against the young man evaporated and 
they all became very much interested in the sub¬ 
ject, asking for further particulars. 
Meanwhile, the young fellow, in his bare feet, 
started toward his room for a change of gar¬ 
ments, saying, “It was quite sensational, and I 
shall tell it all to you presently-” 
He disappeared in his own room, and after he 
had closed the door behind him, an animated 
discussion arose as to whether he had really shot 
the Monster. Morse and the proprietor were 
inclined to believe it, while the others decided 
to defer their decision until they received fur¬ 
ther information. 
Robins reappeared in dry, warm clothing, 
and on his feet he had his city shoes. His face 
looked ruddy and wind-beaten. He took out a 
cigar from his vest-pocket, lit it, sat down in a 
chair opposite 'the party, and began: 
“It was fearful in the woods, I could hardly 
see my way ahead, and it was impossible to dis¬ 
tinguish the tote road. I therefore kept near the 
edge of the woods, by the lake, and proceeded 
cautiously forward. I reckon that it was about 
half past eleven when I reached Brandy Brook. 
I recognized the place from the description I had 
received from you. The woods are quite thick 
there, and that helped me to walk in the teeth of 
that fierce blast. I was sure of two things: 
neither scent nor the least noise of my move¬ 
ment could betray my presence to the buck, should 
he be in his accustomed haunts, owing to the 
wind blowing in my direction. The only thing 
I had to look out for was to keep out of his 
sight. For this reason I decided that until I 
would reach the knoll on the left side of the 
Brook, I should step slowly, always keeping a 
tree between myself and those in front of me, 
and not to leave the tree until I had studied 
everything in my foreground. It took me almost 
three-quarters of an hour to breast the knoll. Lo! 
Did I see him first, or did he see me first? I 
presume that both of us had the same advantage. 
I am sure that I saw him standing at least for 
one second. Then he jumped. The top of the 
knoll, as you know, is partly bare. I had him in 
front of my eyes at least for eight seconds. 
Being used to quick shooting while hunting par¬ 
tridge and quail, I had my 30.30 at my shoulder 
and aimed at the deer, no place in particular- I 
don't think it was a skillful shot. It was rather 
a lucky shot: The bullet caught him in the 
spine, above the middle of the ribs, and he came 
down on his hind legs, presumably paralyzed. 
I did not take any chances and fired again. 
This time taking deliberate aim, I put the bul¬ 
let in his right front shoulder. This ended the 
career of the monarch. When I came up to him, 
he was dead. After cutting his throat, I paced 
up the distance from which I had shot him and 
I found it to be 120 paces, which is equivalent 
to 80 yards. Then I returned and dressed him. 
While doing so, I 'thought that some of you 
gentlemen would be quite jealous on hearing that 
I had shot the Monster. After assuring myself 
by his toe marks that this was the much prized 
buck, I began my way back to camp. It was 
easier travelling, owing to the fact that the wind 
was at my back. But blazing my way and ford¬ 
ing some creeks swelled up by the deluge, took 
me quite some time to reach camp.” 
In the morning the Monster was brought in. 
Everyone admitted that it was the buck they 
had all been after. As the skies were cleared 
and the Monster dead, the three old hunters 
left for home the same day. They were going 
after moose this fall. 
When the Monster was brought to Wanakena 
to be shipped to New York, he tipped the scales 
at 326 pounds. The train-master admitted that 
it was the biggest and heaviest deer he had ever 
weighed. 
OUT F1SHIN’. 
(Edgar A. Guest in Detroit Free Press.) 
A feller isn’t thinkin’ mean, 
Out fishin’; 
His thoughts are mostly good and clean, 
Out fishin’; 
He doesn’t knock his fellow men, 
Or harbor any grudges then; 
A feller’s at his finest, when 
Out fishin’. 
The rich are comrades to the poor, 
Out fishin’; 
All brothers of a common lure, 
Out fishin’; 
The urchin with the pin an’ string 
Can chum with millionaire an’ King; 
Vain pride is a forgotten thing 
Cut fishin’. 
A feller gits a chance to dream, 
Out fishin’; 
He learns the beauties of a stream, 
Out fishin’; 
An’ he can wash his soul in air 
That isn’t foul with selfish care, 
An’ relish plain an’ simple fare 
Out fishin’. 
A feller has no time for hate, 
Out fishin’; 
He isn’t eager to be great, 
Out fishin’; 
He isn’t thinkin’ thoughts of pelf, 
Or goods stacked high upon a shelf, 
But he is always just himself, 
Out fishin’. 
A feller’s glad to be a friend, 
Out fishin’; 
A helpin’ hand he’ll always lend, 
Out fishin’; 
The brotherhood of rod an’ line 
An’ sky an’ stream is always fine; 
Men come real close to God’s design, 
Out fishin’. 
A feller isn’t plotting schemes, 
Out fishin’; 
He’s only busy with his dreams, 
Out fishin’; 
His livery is a coat of tan, 
His creed: to do the best he can; 
A feller’s always mostly man, 
Out fishin’. 
