
FOREST AND STREAM. 



GAM Ili TRA\G ANID GUWIN 


The Cook’s Deer Hunt. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
By common consent I was cook for the party, 
and long before daylight I was awakened by 
Jake calling from the lower bunk: 
“Git up, git up, cook; we must make it over 
to the rye patch before the old buck leaves his 
bed.” 
I was eager for the fun; the stories told by the 
old hunters before we had turned in the night 
previous had wrought my boy spirit up to the 
enthusiastic pitch, and I readily obeyed the sum- 
mons. 
It was still dark when all the party save Jake 
and myself left camp. They had gone around to 
station themselves at the crossings along the 

brow of the ridge, while we, having given them 
a half hour’s start, went down into the thicket 
to rout the deer. A light snow had fallen dur- 
night, just sufficient to cover up all the 
and Jake confidentially informed me 
certain to have a “most elegant” 
ing the 
old tracks, 
that we were 
chase. He had tracked the old buck into the 
thicket the night before, and as a storm was 
brewing, he was sure to be fou nd there in the 
morning. Jake always spoke of “the old buck” 
as though he was one of the camp fixtures. He 
was recognized by a peculiarity in his tracks, and 
many were the hunters who claimed to have “‘put 
lead in his hide 
After we had 
over fallen trees 
half an hour, Jake 
“Now go quiet and 
I was moving cautiously 
away from him when he gave 
signalled me to come. “See there; 
That was the closest I had ever 
deer. There was the oval place in the snow 
where he had lain, and the melted snow in the 
bed showed that*he had just left it a moment 
before was all excitement, and tenderly ex- 
amined the cap on my old muzzleloading shot- 
eun 
~ “Now look sharp,” said Jake. “I know this 
old buck like a book; he’ll circle on us and wait 
till we pass him and then he’ll run back.” 
‘But there are no tracks,” I said. 
He gave me a withering look that I shall 
never forget; then he appeared to consider my 
fifteen years and simply said: “Jist you wait 
there a minute.’ 
[ had never 
in the snow, 
there was not a row of 

through the laurel, 
rocks for 
scrambled 
and snow-covered 
said in a whisper: 
keep your eyes open!” 
along some distance 
a low whistle and 

been to a live 

seen the track of a chased deer 
and I could not understand why 
tracks leading from the 

bed. ‘“‘Here he goes,” said Jake. A full rod 
from where he had lain I was shown a jagged 
hole in the snow, about five inches wide and 
eight inches long. 
“What. made that hole?” I asked. 
“That! Why that’s his track!” 
At intervals of several feet I saw the same 
track, and if I was more curious about any- 
thing than to see the deer himself, it was to see 
him dig these holes in the snow. Presently 
Jake, who was going cautiously ahead, made 
some mysterious motions and waited until I 
came up. 
“He stopped jumpin’ here, and he’s circlin’ to 
the left. You go back about a hundred yards 
and watch for him while I take the track. Now 
look sharp; you might git a shot.” 
He spoke in a smothered tone that filled me 
with awe, and I well remember the feeling that 
came over me as [| stood there alone watching. 
My heart beat so violently that I fancied it 
might be heard, while I once more caressed my 
old gun and stood with my finger upon the 
trigger. I was so nervous that I certainly could 
not have hit the side of a house, and I stood 
there actually fearing that the old buck would 
come my way. I was full of secret pride at the 
thought of how I would bring him down—but 
that’s his bed.” 
suppose I should miss him. My reverie was 
once disturbed by a slight rustle in the bushes, 
just off to my left, and at an open place I saw 
a rabbit skurry out of sight. 
A few minutes later I discovered that some- 
thing was moving through the bushes directly 
in front of me. I cocked my gun nervously, ex- 
amined the cap carefully and pressed it down 
with my thumb. Then I put it to my shoulder 
and looked over it in the direction of the deer; 
then I dropped it down and held it like I had 
seen trapshooters stand and watch for the bird 
to rise; then, as the movement in the bushes 
warned me that the deer was within range, I 
threw the gun to my shoulder and if | had pulled 
the trigger at that instant, I surely would have 
put a hole in Jake’s butternut colored coat. 
“Here, here!” he cried. “Don’t shobdt 
Why didn’t you shoot at the buck?” 
“T haven’t seen any buck to shoot at.” 
“You're a bright one, you are! It’s a wonder 
he didn’t bite you! See here, look where he 
stood!” 
Jake’s 
me! 
voice was full of indignation, and 
feeling very much crestfallen, I went over to 
him, Sure enough, there the buck had stopped 
and watched me and I had not even suspected 
his proximity, and when he jumped across our 
trail in the snow I| thought it was a rabbit. 
“You.must o’ been asleep! Don’t you know 
that if he don’t see you a deer won’t never 
cross your trail without stoppin’ first?” 
Of course I didn’t know it; this was my first 
lesson! I had lost my first opportunity to shoot 
at a deer, and Jake’s face wore such a look of 
disgust that I feared I should never win my 
way back to his favor. 
“I’m sorry, Jake,” I ventured. 
“Yes, yes; I know you are! I’ve knowed fel- 
who thought 
But | 
lows to be caught the same 
they was some punkins in the 
want to tell you, Cook. there’s 
little kinks to learn about deer 
awful sorry the old buck beat us in the first 
heat, but we'll try him again. You follow up 
that low place yonder to the top of the ridge, 
and move the watchers down to the next crossin’ 
and I’ll try to run him out again.” 
I was glad to escape from that withering look 
of Jake’s, thought I was not a little disturbed 
at being sent upon this errand, but I trudged off 
through the deep snow-in a hurry. At a dis- 
tance of a quarter of a mile or more the low 
place referred to by Jake was apparent enough, 
but as I moved across the flat, the brush reach- 
ing considerably above my head, the ridge in 
front of me soon disappeared from view. There 
was an aggravating sameness in the appearance 
of the undergrowth and it is not strange that I 
lost my bearings and felt uncertain as to whether 
I was going in the right direction or not. I 
rushed on almost in a run and it was not long 
until I was so tired that I could with difficulty 
drag my feet through the snow, and was in a 
lather of perspiration. With a feeling of total 
bewilderment I stopped, hesitated a moment and 
then started back over the tracks I had just 
made in the snow. By the time I had retraced 
my steps a couple of rods I suddenly thought of 
Jake’s ridicule. Instantly I turned around with 
the determination to go on a little further, at 
any rate. At the same moment it occurred to 
way 
woods! 
a whole lot o’ 
huntin’! I’m 
me that my trail was there in the snow and 
couldn’t get away! This reassured me. and, 
looking about with fresh courage, I saw right 
there before my nose the shallow notch.in the 
crest of the ridge. 
I now hurried forward to make up some of 
the time lost through my boyish fright. At the 
head of the low place, I struck the trail the 
hunters had made in the snow. Nearby I found 
Dan, the jolliest fellow in the crew, and even 
now I can hear him laugh as he caught sight of 
me. 
‘a running deer! 
























































“Hello, Cook! you look like a boiled lot 
What's up?” 
We passed word to all the watchers, a: 
was none too quickly done, for just as I rea 
the place where Dan told me I could watel 
heard three long blasts from Jake’s horn 
signal that he had started the deer, 
I clambered up on a fallen tree so tl 
could have a better view of the open grout 
front of me, and waited. I had about mac 
my mind that the shrewd old rascal had ; 
us the slip again, when a pheasant came bi 
ing up the hill like a shot, warning me 
something was coming, and I hadn't lon 
wait. For the first time I feasted my eyes 
He came toward me in 
view, his nose straight out, his ears laid fla: 
his antlers fitting closely down over 
shoulders. Legs he appeared to have 1 
they snapped up against his body like sp 
of steel, then down again, all four close toge 
making but a single hole inthe snow. His ; 
tail stuck straight up in the air. In slow, st 
leaps he bounded along like a rubber ball, ¢ 
ing bushes and fallen trees with an ease 
grace marvelous to behold. He did not,see 
be in a hurry—not a motion of his litHe 
indicated unusual haste. At every leap ] 
pected to see him stop, for he surely did 
see me Standing there lost in admiration. Fi 
I thought of my gun, but he was gone. A ¢ 
leaps had taken him forever from my sight. 
A hearty contempt was inspired within m 
the artist who had illustrated my story boc 
had expected to hear the buck coming thr 
the brush with the noise of a frightened 
his antlers standing up in the air like the 1 
horn hatrack in our neighbor’s hallway. | 
It was but a minute later that I heard the 
of Dan’s repeater. Then I heard him laug 
only Dan could laugh, and end with a 
whoop, which was answered all along the 
and taken up by Jake with his “blow-horn 
he was wont to call it. 
“T hit him! I hit him!” 

he cried as I 

up. “You should have seen him clap « 
his stubby tail!” 
“Well, what is y/ 
“Now, see here, Cook, are you so green| 
you don’t know that so long as a deer is| 
hit he will carry his tail straight up in 
air, but put a bullet in his hide and doy| 
comes quick as a wink?” 
As he said this he was already off or} 
trail of the wounded buck. We had gone 
a few yards when Dan cried excitedly: 
“See here! Look at that blood squirte 
the snow, square out from the track! My} 
that means that he is shot through and thre 
and he is lyin’ right. out there in’ the bij 
stone dead!” 
Probably thirty yards from this point we f 
him lying all in a heap. The bullet had 
entirely through him and in answer to mj 
clamations of wonder, Dan informed me tl 
was nothing unusual for a deer to run tha 
after having been shot through the heart. 
was a beautiful buck with a pair of Six-p 
antlers and Dan was wonderfully elated 
having fired-the lucky shot. .He-was in 
glee when Jake came up to us. 
“T see him comin’ just after he had scare: 
life out of the Cook, but I couldn’t get a 
at him for the brush; so I took sight on an 
place about twenty yards ahead of him and: 
he dropped into the sights I let him hay 
and says I, ‘Old iron-clad, you’re my meat!’ 
“You're the stuff, Dan! The old buck 
likin’ to-run over the Cook, down yond 
the thicket, and he never saw him!” 
Dan beat his legs and laughed:as thoug 
would split. “Well, well! That’s too good 
He continued to laugh and pound himse 
a way that made me feel very uncomfortal 








































