BOB ARMSTRONG’S 
Distemper Medicine 
The product of years of experience 
with Distemper cases. This is no patent 
medicine but the greatest Distemper 
killer the world has ever seen. 
GUARANTEED to cure 99% of 
Distemper cases if taken in time 
and according to instructions. 
Put up in tablet or powder form. 
Packages, enough for four dogs, 
price $7.50. 
Leaves no after-effects such as 
Chorea, etc. 
The best life insurance you can put on 
your dogs. 
BOB ARMSTRONG 
ROBA, ALA. 
A Six Months’ Subscription for only 
25 cents 
(This is % the Regular price) 
An Army of Boys JJootsSU 
are regular readers of THE BOYS’ MAGA¬ 
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very best stories, both serial _ and short, by 
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Athletics, Physical Training, Stamp Collect¬ 
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etc. Beautiful big pages with handsome 
covers in colors. A big lot of jokes and 
comic drawings. 
We give away $132.00 in Cash Prizes for 
the best amateur short stories, drawings, 
cartoons, articles on radio, mechanics, elec¬ 
tricity, etc. There is no reason why YOUR 
boy should not win some of these cash prizes. 
These Prize Contests are continuous and 
each issue of THE BOYS’ MAGAZINE gives 
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the approaching animal. Then he 
turned to me with eydb snapping. 
“It isn’t the doe that’s cornin’,” he 
articulated softly, “It’s the buck!” 
The next few minutes were exciting 
ones. The buck had evidently no sus¬ 
picion of our proximity, but at any 
moment a truant gust of wind might 
warn him of the impending danger. I 
had first seen him as he stepped over a 
fallen tree near the top of the hill. 
Now we had only to wait until he ap¬ 
peared from behind the intervening tree 
trunk. I might have obtained a shot 
sooner had I stood up, and stepped out 
to one side of the birch; but this, con¬ 
sidering the circumstances, would have 
been taking a big risk. Therefore we 
possessed our souls in patience and 
awaited motionless the conclusion of 
events. 
Looking back on this experience, it 
seems to assume always more and more 
an element of the ridiculous. Certainly 
it proves like many other similar in¬ 
cidents that the game of hunting is 
more often than anything else a game 
of chance. Here were we, the hunters, 
being literally hunted by the very ani¬ 
mal which a short time previous we be¬ 
lieved we had lost. In other words, we 
had been whisked around within fifteen 
minutes from the extreme of bad to the 
extreme of good luck. 
Side by side we crouched in the snow, 
watching for the appearance of our 
quarry. The suspense was harrowing, 
and during those interminable seconds 
| I was subject to a variety of thrills. 
Rube sat like a sphinx, his gun cocked 
and at his elbow. It was evident that 
he didn’t intend to let the buck get 
away and therefore he was all ready 
with his old “trusty” in case I happened 
to make a mess of things. 
At length, when I had almost con¬ 
cluded the buck had a second time given 
us the slip, he loomed suddenly from be¬ 
hind the concealing trunk of the big 
birch. Enough of daylight remained 
for us to see him in detail, and cer¬ 
tainly he was a magnificent creature. 
He came at a swinging walk, his head 
lowered, his attitude formidable. No 
doubt, after thinking the matter over he 
had come to the decision that another 
buck was lurking in the vicinity and 
that it was this which had routed him 
from his hiding place under the fallen 
spruce. Therefore, he was returning to 
administer a sound thrashing to the 
intruder and incidentally satisfy his 
curiosity. But in his case, even as in 
that of many another wary white-tail, 
curiosity was to prove the evil genii 
that led him to his downfall. 
I had seen a number of large deer 
heads during the seasons I have spent 
in the Adirondacks, but the head of this 
buck overshadowed all others. In fact 
the horns were so massive that they 
made their wearer appear top heavy. 
As he came toward us he swung them 
from side to side with a motion similar 
to that of a bull, while the muscles of 
his shoulders rolled and rippled under 
the skin, giving him an appearance of 
great strength and power. 
When he had passed a few feet be¬ 
yond the birch I gave a loud whistle. 
Instantly he froze to attention and 
threw up his head, the cradle of his 
horns silhouetted in dark outline 
against the snowy background. 
He stood facing us, slightly quarter¬ 
ing and offered a deadly shot. At the 
report of the rifle he plunged forward 
in his tracks, struggled a few paces, 
and just as Rube, to make sure of 
things, fired a second bullet into him, 
rolled over stone dead. 
We ran up the log road rejoicing in 
our good fortune. Nor were our antici¬ 
pations disappointed. The head proved 
a splendid trophy. It was quite out of 
the common and bore striking resem¬ 
blance to that of a black-tail deer as 
may be seen from the picture. Several of 
the prongs were palmated, a formation 
rarely found among the white-tail 
species. The horns, which were un¬ 
usually heavy and unique in shape, 
carried thirteen points. 
It was now almost dark and we hur¬ 
ried in the business of hanging up our 
prize. Rube brought out his rope, 
block and pulley and slung the former 
over the stout limb of a beech. Next 
he cut a gamble, tied the other end of 
the rope around it and thrust the 
gamble through the deer’s legs above 
the hock. We were now ready to haul, 
and haul we did with a vengeance. 
Quite unexpectedly came the catas- 
trophy. I had a momentary glimpse 
of Rube sailing backward into a brush 
pile. Then the falling mass of the 
deer caught me a glancing blow and 
sent me flying. 
“That dum rope busted,” Rube ex¬ 
plained as we picked ourselves out of 
the snow. 
So in the half light we gave our 
tackle a thorough overhauling, tested 
our muscles once more on the weight of 
the trophy and this time were success¬ 
ful. Then gathering together rifles and 
ruck sacks we decamped hastily in the 
direction of the lake, for already the 
stars were shining and night had fallen 
in the woods. 
In writing to Advertisers m 
eyition Forest and Stream. It will identify you. 
Page 60S 
