had hunted and mediated on my luck, I 
firmly resolved that if ever the chance 
did come that I must be equal to the 
emergency. 
The day was wet, it rained some, I 
was wet to the skin from the tall grass, 
but my great desire was burning 
brightly. If I could only see one! The 
sun began to sink over the mountains 
and it was dusk as I left the woods, and 
just then up jumped a doe, and away 
she went. It was my first sight of a 
deer, wild and loose. I wanted to put 
horns on it, and then shoot, such a 
shame it couldn’t have been a buck. Al 
had seen ten—I had seen one—certainly 
the Gods were against me. It was Al’s 
first deer hunt and my third. 
That night after a good hearty meal, 
I went outside, and in the clear light 
air we have in Montana, I just drank in 
all the wonderful world, it seemed to 
me. The swish of the river, the un- 
earthly hideous wail of the coyote; and 
from the other bank of the river, an 
answer, with all the notes of woe, mis- 
ery and agony in one dispairing wail 
as if the devil was toasting its very 
soul over hell’s hottest ovens—and then 
stillness. An Owl goes Who-Who-o- 
Who-o-o, and then again the ever-mur- 
muring swish of the river, gliding on 
and on as the years roll by, and I am 
struck by awe and stand spellbound, 
caught by the glories of a November 
night on the bank of that mighty river, 
the Missouri. I was brought out of my 
reverie by Al, wanting to know why I 
didn’t turn in— 
HE next morning was Wednesday 
and our last hunting day. I kept 
thinking that this was my third trip, 
and I have seen just one deer in all that 
time, and that one a doe. It did seem 
strange that Al on his first trip should 
see ten! But with determination to 
get a deer if hard work could bring it, 
I started in. We chose a new “bot- 
tom” west of the one we had hunted in. 
Al chose an open lane down through 
the timber, caused by a muddy creek 
bed, and I went half a mile further 
up for a try in the Rose bushes. The 
wind was in my favor. The bushes 
were shoulder high and with paths 
leading here and there—following one 
of these paths I slipped noiselessly and 
cautiously along, keeping a keen look- 
out for game. I had hunted across the 
bushes once and was starting back 
deeper into them, when I heard Bang! 
Bang! Bang! and then all was still. I 
waited and listened, but nothing more 
was heard. I wondered if Al had got- 
ten him, but it was my time to see some- 
thing. Here Al had had lots of chances 
—the world was not treating me right. 
I was just going to hunt all the harder, 
and once more I took up the vigil, got 
in position for instant shooting, every- 
thing was ready. I slipped along a few 
In writing to Advertisers mention Forest and Stream. 







Lake alip 
from Napoleon 
Fe) HE great General wisely remarked 
Be Ke xe “An Army travels on its stomach”’ 
Oy eye) i) Muscle for the march and ene 
for the battle depend on nourishment. 

7S 
SE —" 
And the sportsman—in the forest or by the 
stream—knows the strength and stamina 4e 
needs to hunt his quarry, stalk his game or 
cast his bait. 
That’s why KARO on pancakes is the 
perfect breakfast for sportsmen—for in KARO 
there’s DEXTROSE, the food element that 
puts strength and energy in the blood and 
tissue cells. 



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113 
It will identify you. 
