Oct. 22, 1910 ] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
653 
\ 
hunted hard all morning without success. At 
noon we ate our lunch, smoked a pipe, and then 
Mell asked, in his quiet way: 
‘“Where is this pond that I have heard so much 
about?” 
“It is about a mile and a half distant,” I re¬ 
plied. “If you want to go there, I’ll guide you.” 
He did. It was rough going and we reached 
the shore'about 3 o’clock. For an hour we sat 
and looked out on the pretty sheet of water, 
and then Mell asked, in that same mild way: 
“Where is the beach that Uncle Hi men¬ 
tioned ?” 
I pointed to the east and Mell suggested that 
• we go and take a look at it. We reached the 
point of rocks shortly before four o’clock. I 
told Mell I would stop there and 
he could go on around the bend 
of the pond about 200 yards and 
there he would find a little open¬ 
ing that would be a fine point 
from which to view the beach. 
“You may get a shot if you go 
quietly and wait a bit,” I said, 
but I didn’t believe it. So Mell 
started. I waited until he disap¬ 
peared in the spruce thicket, and 
then I made my way out on the 
point of rocks. As I came out 
behind a big boulder I was facing 
east over the open toward the 
beach. On the instant my pro¬ 
gress was arrested by the sight of 
an enormous buck deer standing 
knee-deep in the water off the 
beach. At the same instant there 
came to my ears the crack of a 
rifle and I saw the big buck hump 
his back, stand rigid for a moment 
with all the appearance of being 
sick and then turn toward the 
shore. The rifle cracked again, 
but the buck went on. When he 
reached the marsh grass at the 
edge of the woods he turned and 
faced the pond. Slowly he sank 
down and finally his proud head 
disappeared in the grass. Then I 
heard Mell call and I left the 
point to go to him. As I came 
up on to the high bank, I met 
Uncle Hi face to face. 
“Who’s been shootin’ ?” he asked. 
“Mell has just shot a big buck on the beach,” 
I replied. 
We went around the pond and found Mell 
proudly standing beside his quarry. Uncle Hi 
looked at the deer, stroked his whiskers, ex¬ 
pectorated vehemently, and then turned to Mell: 
‘‘Ever been in the woods afore?” 
“No.” 
“Do you own a gun ?” 
“No. I borrowed this one of Charlie.” 
“Borrowed the clothes ye have on, too, didn’t 
ye ?” 
“Yes.” 
“Well, do you know what ye’ve done, boy? 
\eve killed Big Sandy—that’s what ye’ve done.” 
“Is that so!” ejaculated Mell. vainly endeavor¬ 
ing to suppress his jubilation and appear like a 
man who just saunters out and kills a deer 
whenever the spirit moves him. 
“It do beat all,” said Uncle Hi. “By cooky, it 
do beat all. Never wuz in the woods afore. 
MR. GROSS’ DEER HEAD. 
ing Uncle Hi said: “Boys, I’ve got ter go out 
an’ git some flour and things. It do beat all how 
these sick men do eat. I’ll get the mail, too, and 
you boys can put in the day as ye wanter. I 
can’t git back afore night.” 
After breakfast the old man shouldered his 
pack and started up the trail toward the railroad. 
We decided to go hunting, as venison was needed. 
We crossed the river, and agreed to meet at 
noon at a great rock near Silver Brook and eat 
our lunch together. The wind was right and 
the woods were in most excellent condition for 
hunting. 
The early frosts and high winds cut the leaves 
from the trees and the frequent rains moistened 
them so thoroughly that we made our way with¬ 
out noise. It was possible to hear and see long 
distances in the woods, but this was quite as ad¬ 
vantageous to the deer as to ourselves, as I soon 
discovered. 
Charlie laid his course to the west and I went 
a trifle north of west. How many deer I 
jumped 1 do not know. I fired at several but 
without result, and I reached Silver Brook with 
nothing to show for my morning’s walk. As I 
sat on a log near the brook I heard six shots 
fired in rapid succession perhaps a quarter of a 
mile to the south of me. Knowing that Charlie 
must be near, I hurried through the woods in 
the direction of the shots. At the top of a ridge 
I stopped to listen and look. I heard a voice 
and saw Charlie sitting on a log at the foot of 
the ridge, but I could see no other person. I 
made my way silently toward him, and at a dis¬ 
tance of twenty paces I stopped behind a tree 
and listened again. Charlie was talking to him¬ 
self, the while he rolled his rifle-barrel back and 
forth on his knees, and this is 
what he said: 
“I have no business in the 
woods with a gun, for I am a 
chump. Can’t see anything and 
can’t hit anything. Somebody 
ought to kick me out to the rail¬ 
road and on to a train. I don’t 
believe the gun is good for 
shucks, anyway. I’ve a good 
notion to smash it against a tree 
and go home, where I belong. 
Six shots and never ruffled a 
hair. I’m a fine hunter, I am.” 
It was all I could do to prevent 
bursting into loud laughter as I 
stepped out from the tree. 
“What is the matter?” I asked. 
“Matter?” he replied. “Matter 
enough. It has come to a nice 
pass when a fellow shoots six 
times at a big buck and that ani¬ 
mal takes no notice of the bom¬ 
bardment except to make faces 
at the shooter. That’s what I 
did and that’s what the buck did, 
and I’m going to smash the gun 
and go to camp. See that big 
beech tree up there? Well, I 
came around the edge of this 
ridge, and right beside that tree 
I saw a whopping big buck feed¬ 
ing off the bushes. He didn’t see 
or hear me. I pulled up the gun 
and fired at him. And what do 
you suppose he did? He just 
turned and ran his tongue out at 
me—that’s what he did. Well, I fired again and 
again until my magazine was empty, and still 
that buck stood there. When he saw that my 
end of the entertainment was finished, he ran 
his tongue out again, flaunted his tail three 
times, and walked off into the woods. There 
should be a law against such fellows as I being 
at large in the woods.” 
I did not attempt to suggest anything to 
Charlie, but we went up to the beech tree and, 
in its trunk at about the height of a man’s head 
we found six bullet holes, all in a space that 
could be covered by the palm of my hand. “Very 
fair shooting,” I said. “You aimed too high 
every time. I wonder why.” 
Then Charlie looked at his gun. He raised the 
peep-sight -and sighted through it. He pulled the 
lever down and the breech-bolt flew back and hit 
the rear sight, tilting the latter perceptibly. The 
cause of his failure to hit the deer was explained. 
He had been shooting with his rear peep sight 
Borrowed a rifle. Borrowed the clothes he has 
on. An’ he’s killed Big Sandy—killed the buck 
I’ve bin huntin’ for four years, an’ me livin’ and 
huntin’ and trappin’ here all my life! 
The old man stroked his whiskers and ex¬ 
pectorated more vehemently and noisily than 
ever, as he lifted the deer’s head and gazed ad¬ 
miringly at the horns. 
“Boys,” he said, a half quizzical, half-serious 
expression on his face, “these woods are sure 
goin’ to the devil—-yes sir, sure they are. Our 
most prom’nent deer are gittin’ so they don’t care 
who kills ’em.” 
IX—THE PURSUIT OF BUCKS. 
When we rolled out of the bunks this morn¬ 
