CHEAPEST DOG FOOD IN THE WORLD 
Not only cheapest in price but of absolutely HIGH¬ 
EST QUALITY. Full particulars on request and 
also IDEAL DOG BOOK absolutely free, teaching 
you how to take care of and doctor your own 
Write quickly for full information. M. F. MARX 
MANUFACTURING COMPANY, Inc., Dept. 22, 
Louisville, Ky. 
DOGDOM 
America’s Greatest Dog Magazine 
Devoted to all breeds 
Monthly articles by Freeman Lloyd, A. F. 
Hochwalt, Lillian C. Raymond-Mallock, W. 
R. Van Dyck, Bert Franklin, D.V.M., and 
other well known writers. Profusely illus¬ 
trated. Twenty cents a copy. Send for 
free sample. 
$2.00 a year; Canadian, $2.25; Foreign, $2.50 
DOGDOM Book Department can supply 
any book about dogs published. Write to¬ 
day for book-list. 
DOGDOM 
F. E. Bechmann, Publisher 
509 City Nat’l Bank Bldg., Battle Creek, Michigan 
Is This Worth the Price? 
Stop your dog breaking shot and wing. 
Teach him what whoa! means. No long 
trailing rope or spike collar. Our field 
dog control is not cruel. Can be carried 
in pocket and attached instantly to dog’s 
collar. Dog can't bolt. Fast dogs can be 
worked in close and young ones field 
broken in a week. Works automatically— 
principal South American Bolas. Sent 
postpaid with full directions for $2. Testi- 
monials and booklet, Making a Meat Dog 
sent on request. 
MAPLE ROAD KENNELS 
SHOOTING DOGS WANTED 
I have owned and developed the greatest Field Trial 
Dogs that this world has ever seen and I am satisfied to 
rest on my laurels and in the future devote ray energies 
exclusively to training shooting dogs. My training preserves 
comprise 20,000 acres with abundance of game. Kennels 
built after a lifetime experience. My assistants, the best 
men I could find in Scotland, and the dogs I break remain 
broken. I have more unbroken records than any trainer 
living or any trainer who ever did live. If you want your 
shooting dogs properly developed, send them to me. 
R. K. (BOB) ARMSTRONG, Roba, Alabama. 
11 If Your Dog Is Sick, 
all run down, thin and un 
thrifty with materated eyes, 
high-colored urine and harsh 
staring coat, ''eating grass" 
won’t help him. Dent’s Con¬ 
dition Pills will. They are 
a marvelous tonic for mange, 
distemper, indigestion and 
out of sorts. Price 5uc., 
druggists, or mail. 
DENT MEDICINE CO., 
Newburgh, N. Y. 
WILDFOWL GUNS 
Our 12-BORE MAGNUMS shooting 3-in. 
Paper Shells (iy 2 ozs. shot) have an ef¬ 
fective Killing Range of 80 to 100 yards. 
Send for particulars to 
G. E. LEWIS & SONS 
32 & 33, Lower Loveday Street, 
BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND. 
Established 1850 
HUNTING THE 
WHITETAIL 
(Continued from page 601) 
to other fields. However, it might be 
just as well to add that the above inci¬ 
dent is an extreme case. Most begin¬ 
ners at least manage to pull the trig¬ 
ger ! 
The more one comes in intimate con¬ 
tact with the whitetail is more con¬ 
stantly does one learn to admire him. 
He appears indeed the living symbol 
of all the wild stirring influences of 
the forest. Truly he is a beautiful 
creature embodying the very spirit of 
the chase and adding life and charm 
to the solitudes of the wilderness. His 
princely carriage and symmetrical 
horns, stimulate our fancy in the be¬ 
lief that he is the original descendant 
of the stag who quickened the pulse 
of the divine Artemis in the golden age 
of mythology. Moose, elk, caribou and 
other species of our large mammals 
possess undoubtedly greater majesty, 
are constructed in a larger, more im¬ 
pressive mould, but for sheer grace and 
beauty and cleverness in eluding the 
hunter, none can equal the whitetail. 
The dimensions of a deer’s horns are 
not always regulated by his weight. I 
have seen very heavy bucks who could 
boast only slender undersized antlers, 
and I have seen ones considerably 
smaller who carried the big “rocking- 
chair” kind. Naturally, we expect a 
large deer to have large horns, and as 
a general rule we are not disappointed. 
But often enough the other thing will 
happen, and our record head of the 
season be found on an animal of aver¬ 
age proportions. 
One of the largest heads I ever 
bagged was carried by a buck of not 
over two hundred and twenty-five 
pounds weight. 
Accompanied by “Rube,” an old time 
and famous Adirondack hunter better 
known to the world as Reuben Cary, 
1 was returning one chill November 
afternoon from an all day hunt on the 
snow. We were both leg weary, and 
wet from the sleet and snow—squalls 
that had fallen at regular intervals 
since we had started out in the morn¬ 
ing. Worst of all we were coming back 
to camp empty-handed. Nightfall was 
fast closing in, and the wintry gloom 
of the earlier afternoon had now given 
place to a golden twilight, as the sun¬ 
set afterglow flared briefly behind the 
dark hurrying clouds in the west. 
In silence we plodded along through 
the six inches of moist clinging snow. 
Wild, forest-bound vistas led down into 
the valleys and up toward the ridge 
summits, melting away into those un¬ 
chartered distances that forever charm 
the woods lover. It was breathlessly 
still, the wind having died with the 
setting sun. 
Presently we drew near a sheet of 
water known as Rock Pond. The sight 
of it cheered us, for it meant that we 
were nearing home. Throughout the 
day deer signs had been few and far 
between, but now as we came up over 
a long low-lying bridge commanding 
the pond, fresh trails and diggings be¬ 
came suddenly plentiful. 
Rube paused and carefully scanned 
the ground. 
“How’s that fer a buck’s track,” he 
inquired. 
The track he called my attention to 
resembled that of a heifer rather than 
a deer. Every imprint hit squarely 
and deeply into the soft snow, and from 
all appearances it had just been made. 
Hard luck, it seemed, that we could not 
have struck it earlier in the day; but 
the woods were darkening rapidly and 
tracking therefore was out of the ques¬ 
tion. 
We went on again, feeling somewhat 
“down in the mouth.” But Rube, the 
philosopher, was not half as dis¬ 
gruntled as I was. 
“Never blame yer luck before ye git 
home,” said he. 
Along the top of the ridge we again 
stumbled on the buck’s tracks. Then 
at once as we looked over and down 
into the sweep of another valley Rube 
stiffened into rigid attention. 
Directly below us, under the slope 
of the hill, stood a doe. She was not 
looking in our direction, but evidently 
had either heard or winded us, for her 
big ears were thrust forward, while her 
whole attitude spoke alertness and ten¬ 
sion. 
“Don’t let’s miss the buck if he’s 
round here,” I whispered to Rube. 
“We’ll jist stand quiet,” he breathed 
back at me. 
Thus we remained motionless, search¬ 
ing every foot of ground below us for 
a possible patch of gray; the glimmer 
of a horn; or the warning flicker of a 
tail. But strain our eyes as we might, 
we could detect nothing. 
Although the doe had not moved from 
her position, we could see she was 
getting uneasier by the minute. At 
last, after having stamped nervously, 
and raised her nose several times into 
the wind, she started off at a fast trot 
along the slope of the hill. 
No sooner did she do this than simul¬ 
taneously our eyes caught a sudden mo¬ 
tion under the top of a fallen spruce 
which lay to the left, close under the 
ridge where w r e were standing. Next 
instant we glimpsed a pair of mighty 
horns, as a splendid buck burst from 
cover and fled up the hill in the same 
direction the doe had taken. He did not 
runs, but slipped like a shadow over the 
ground, his head carried low, his great 
dusky antlers laid back upon his 
Page 606 
In writing to Advertisers 'mention Forest and Stream. It will identify you. 
