John Bunyan. 
In the moss-draped forests of the Tensas, 
Darning at will through the palmetto thickets, 
eside lily-clothed lakes and brakes of towering 
ypress, or through the expanses of second- 
; rowth, where once were the vast fields of a 
anished race—the cotton planter of the old 
out h—wanders the fabled buck “John Bunyan.” 
Old man Quarterbaum had stoutly maintained 
hat John Bunyan was very large. His de- 
cription nowhere inspired credence, and will 
ot be repeated lest the reader should doubt. 
B. bore a charmed life, for Quarterbaum had 
hot at him many times, each time with perfect 
omposure and a fine bead, and had invariably 
missed him. Quarterbaum was a hunter and 
rapper and knew when a real buck should 
top growing. So it came to be the mighty 
Purpose of every hunter who had heard of John 
o meet and vanquish him or himself fall the 
•ictim of valorous combat. 
The year of Louisiana plantation life had 
drawn to a close. Several times during the fall, 
n company with Mr. Speed, the nearest neigh- 
>or, I had sought John’s trail. Usually the 
mnt was a success as to deer meat in general, 
out never for John Bunyan’s meat; though 
Speed did get one shot at him as he ran by, 
ihead of the hounds, and the big buck floundered 
tnd almost fell. Speed thought he had wounded 
Dim, but this was only one of John Bunyan’s 
vays. He departed. 
The plantation business was ended on Dec. 
> 6 , and in the afternoon of that day I launched 
he canoe that had been left for me and paddled 
ibout ten miles down the Tensas River to join 
the party of gentlemen whose guest I was to 
oe. Messrs. W. L. Polk, A. Warner, Dan 
Searles and Howard Warner had gone down 
the day before with assurances that the camp 
would be pitched in plain view on the river 
bank. They had hunted John B. for several 
years. They had returned from each trip into 
he Tensas swamp with much recompense, but 
without the invincible John, and their valor 
asserted itself anew each year. 
Darkness was falling and the lone canoeist 
was cold, hungry and partly wet when the 
rounding of a sharp bend brought into view 
the glow of a camp-fire on the tree trunks and 
branches at a point not far distant. In re¬ 
sponse to a call the four hosts signalled their 
welcome while two negroes with lanterns made 
Fast the canoe and hurried traveler and baggage 
up the bank. Supper followed quickly and at 
an early hour all turned in. 
Again there glided silently and in stately mag¬ 
nificence, before heavy eyes, the panorama of 
the Tensas; on either shore, mile after mile of 
tall forest trees draped with waving Spanish 
moss, while thickets of palmetto or brakes of 
cane cover the ground beneath. Such a cloak 
of nature, which could inspire fairy tales from 
old man Quarterbaum, and which to me seems 
of all garbs the most inspiring to him who 
would not see the noble land covered by cities 
and farms, is what Pious Jeems has termed 
dismal. Can forest trees with Spanish moss, so 
heavily draped that the sky is scarce visible, and 
palmettos so closely planted that the sun cannot 
send his rays to kiss their feet, but must salute 
the brows of their guardians, the stately trees 
instead—can this be dismal? 
The discussion had turned to the hunting of 
deer by imposing upon their curiosity. One of 
the party had been told of employing a red flag 
set in the most open woods available, the 
hunter hiding nearby. Mr. Polk then related 
that the first time he ever saw Mr. Lilley—a 
professional hunter well known thereabout, 
presumably the same Ben Lilley recently of the 
President’s party—he dropped into his camp one 
day while hunting. Lilley had on a bright red 
shirt, and when questioned as to why he wore 
such a color said it was to lessen the chance of 
being shot by mistake for a deer. Now there 
is not usually more than one hunter to several 
square miles in that particular swamp, and few 
novices are among them, so that the chance of 
being shot by mistake is remote. We reasoned 
that the red shirt might have served the ad¬ 
ditional purpose of attracting the deer’s curi¬ 
osity, as the red flag was expected to do. At 
any rate, an experiment was determined upon, 
and a chamois vest with a red flannel lining was 
dug out from somebody’s carpet-bag. The ap¬ 
parition that scrambled up the bank across the 
river and plunged into the wilderness next morn¬ 
ing would have attracted the curiosity of Broad¬ 
way, much more that of a poor stupid deer. The 
red side of the vest was toward the weather. 
The undergrowth was so thick that one could 
not see a great distance, and not a glimpse was 
had of a deer that was heard running when 
about fifteen minutes out from camp. A fresh 
trail showed rather large tracks, but not John 
Bunyan’s. Shortly afterward I was startled 
by a jump, a loud snort and several bounds. 
There was just a glimpse of a buck as he put a 
tree between us before stopping. Several steps 
brought me to a point commanding a pretty 
good view of the woods in that direction, and 
there I stooped low and waited for demonstra¬ 
tions of curiosity. I could not see the deer, but 
could “almost feel his gaze.” The demonstra¬ 
tion came after a lapse of about seven seconds, 
but in the wrong direction—geographically, at 
least. With three separate and distinct snorts, 
either one of which would have indicated vast 
astonishment, each one begun with emphasis, 
drawn out to considerable length and with a 
distinctly crescendo effect, abruptly terminating 
in several exclamation points, and (probably) a 
gasp for breath, that buck ran away very fast. 
On the return to camp the vest went back into 
the carpet-bag. 
Having “smelled powder,” it was an im¬ 
patient wait for the time to start on the after¬ 
noon hunt. Crossing Tensas River and follow¬ 
ing the narrow strips of open woods or flats 
bearing down stream and away from the river, 
occasionally crossing the intervening low, 
thickly grown ridge to the next flat, a deer was 
finally jumped and his flag seen for a fleeting 
instant. A miss was scored. This deer was 
within sixty yards of a small herd of cattle, one 
cow having a large and noisy bell. This argues 
for hunting deer by riding a slow horse which 
wears a bell, which I have never tried. It seems 
unsportsmanlike. The theory is not so scien¬ 
tific as that of the red shirt. 
After a time an ideal spot was found which, 
from a seat on the trunk of a fallen tree, com¬ 
manded a view of the woods for 250 yards in 
two directions and 100 yards across the flat. 
After nearly an hour’s wait, and as the shadows 
of dusk were enveloping the forest, I saw John 
Bunyan! Noiselessly trotting through the 
woods like the veritable ghost-deer that' he is, 
but occasionally nosing the ground where the 
doe had preceded him he made swift progress; 
in fact, seemed to fairly glide through space, so 
that none too soon was the rifle poised toward 
an opening at the far edge of the flat, and a 
whistle sounded as he glided into the open. 
John did not stop, but paused slightly in his 
alluring pursuit to mark the sound. At that 
instant the trigger was touched and John 
vanished; that is, he departed quickly. Lie left 
no bloodstains on his trail, so that it is certain 
he was no other Bunyan than John, and I now 
see that it is impossible for any one to kill him, 
though from certain insinuations made in camp 
that evening, it would be inferred that some 
gentlemen heretofore mentioned would be so 
foolish as to burn more powder on John’s ac¬ 
count, should they be situated as I was. The 
horns that this buck carries and his great 
stature, as estimated through the magnifying 
agency of a rifle’s hindsight notch, have not 
been exaggerated. 
The days passed quickly and so did the deer 
that were seen, for each day brought its store of 
experiences to narrate in the evening over the 
crackling camp-fire. Mostly they were of deer 
surprised in places too densely grown for good 
still-hunting, and of their immediate disappear¬ 
ance behind patches of denser growth, or a 
group of large trees. Few turkeys were seen, 
and sign was infrequent, but there was plenty of 
deer sign. 
About the fourth day, in the afternoon, a 
stand was taken in a feeding ground discovered 
that morning, a patient vigilance was rewarded 
with a god-sized young buck with six small 
prongs. He was eating acorns and was broad¬ 
side at about sixty yards. Though it was late 
afternoon and growing dark, the .30-30 broke 
both shoulders, and a bullet through the neck 
finished him promptly. The place was well 
marked and then haste made to camp. Several 
volunteer packers brpught in the buck an hour 
later, two negroes with much toil carrying him 
to the river on a pole. 
During the next few days the same feeding 
ground was hunted alternately by Howard 
Warner and Dan Searles, each of whom killed 
a deer. In one case it was the first deer killed, 
and the initiation was promptly administered and 
borne with fortitude. 
