They were evidently running. That meant the game was
running, too,--how many and in what direction I could only guess.
Every nerve and muscle was tense with expectation. The music of the
hounds grew fainter. "Evidently circling again," I mused. I was
getting to be quite a huntsman, and chuckled at how David Crocketty my
observations were.
Another hour I waited. A squirrel came out on a limb, and with its
antics and barking helped me pass the time. A while I watched it, now
and then dropping my eyes to a level for the expected deer. Suddenly,
as I dropped my eyes, the most thrilling sight confronted them. They
nearly popped out--my eyes. There, within fifty feet of me, stood a
magnificent buck.
I shall never forget the picture. His beautiful, keen limbs slightly
quivering, his sleek sides glistening in the slanting rays of the sun
as they throbbed in and out with his rapid panting. His head held
high, the antlers looked like a picture.
All this had happened in less than five seconds. I only had to veer my
gun two inches. My hand was on the trigger, and with a perfect "bead"
on his left shoulder--right where the old guide had said the night
before was the spot to aim for.
Snap! left barrel.
Snap! right barrel.
Off like the wind, Mr. Buck!
Fellows, I have never been sicker than I was at that moment, but once.
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