A DEER HUNT, AND HOW IT ENDED.
They were a long way off,--more than half a mile, he thought. Evidently
they had not seen him. Though marvellously quick to catch scent or
sound, deer have not a fine sense of sight for distant objects.
"They have left the covert early, to go out and feed," thought he. "If
not frightened, they will browse around in the hollows there until
dark."
He was wondering how he should manage to creep near, and get a shot at
the shy creatures, when the dog barked.
"That won't do!" he muttered; and, hurrying to silence Lion, he saw a
stranger loitering along the prairie road.
Jack stepped out of the bushes into the hollow, and beckoned.
"I've sighted a couple of deer that I'm trying to get a shot at; if you
go over the hill, you'll scare 'em."
The stranger--a slender youth in soiled shirt-sleeves, carrying a coat
on his arm--looked at him saucily, with his head on one side and a quid
turning in the cheek, and said,--
"Well! and why shouldn't I scare 'em?"
"I can't hinder you, of course; but," said Jack, "if _you_ were hunting,
and _I_ should be passing by, I should think it a matter of honor--"
"Honor is an egg that don't hatch in this country," interrupted the
stranger; and the quid went into the other cheek, while the head went
over on the other side, as if to balance it. "But never mind; 'tain't my
cut to interfere with another feller's luck. Show me your deer."
Jack took him through the thickets to his ambush. There were the deer
still feeding; the old one lifting her head occasionally as if on the
lookout for danger. They seemed to be moving slowly along the slope.
The dark eyes of the strange youth kindled; then he said, with a low
laugh,--
"I'd like a cut-bore rifle for them fellers! You never can get 'em with
that popgun."
"I believe I can if you'll help me. You notice there's a range of hills
between us and them; and they are on the north slope of one. I've been
surveying a little of the country off south, and I think you can get
around the range that way, and come out beyond the deer, before they see
you. There's everything in our favor. The wind blows to us from them. At
the first alarm they'll start for the woods; and they'll be pretty sure
to keep along in the hollow. I'll watch here, and take them as they come
in."
Quid and head rolled again; and the strange youth said jeeringly, with
one eye half closed, looking at Jack,--
"So you expect me to travel a mile or two, and drive the deer in for
you?" He then pulled down the nether lid of the half-closed eye, and
inquired, somewhat irrelevantly, whether Jack saw anything green there.
"Not by this light!" he answered his own question, as he let up his
eyelid and snapped his thumb and finger. "Ye can't ketch old birds with
chaff. I've been through the lot. Parley-voo frong-say?"
Jack regarded him with astonishment, declaring that there was no catch
about it. "Only help me, and we will share the game together."
Still the fellow demurred. "I've walked my legs off to-day already;
you'll find 'em back in the road here! Had nothing to eat since morning;
wore myself down lean as a rail; felt for the last two hours as though
there was nothing but my backbone between me and eternity! No, sir-ree!
I wouldn't walk that fur out of my way for a herd of deer. If I had a
horse to ride I wouldn't mind."
Jack was greatly excited. He had never yet had a good shot at a deer;
and if, at the end of his day's work, he could carry home a good fat
doe, and perhaps a fawn, of his own shooting, it would be a triumph. So,
without a moment's reflection, he said,--
"You may ride mine. Then, if you don't want a share of the game, I'll
pay you for your trouble."
The strange youth took time to shift his quid and balance it; then
replied in a manner which appeared provokingly cool to the fiery Jack,--
"I'll look at him. Does he ride easy?"
"Yes. Hurry!"
Jack ran down to the horse, led him into the bushes, where the wagon
could be left concealed, and had already taken him out of the shafts,
before the stranger came lounging to the spot.
"Pull off the harness," said the latter, with the easy air of ordering a
nag at a stable. "And give me that blanket out of the buggy. I don't
ride bareback for nobody." And he spat reckless tobacco-juice.
Jack complied, though angry at the fellow for being so dilatory and
fastidious at such a time. The strange youth then spread his coat over
the blanket, laid his right hand on it, and his left on bridle and mane,
and with a leap from the ground threw himself astride the horse,--a
display of agility which took Jack by surprise.
"I see you have been on horseback before!"
"Never in my life," said the stranger, with a gleam in his dark eyes
which belied his words. And now Jack noticed that he had a little switch
in his hand.
"He won't need urging. Be sure and ride well beyond that highest hill
before you turn; and then come quietly around, so as not to frighten the
deer too much."
The fellow laughed. "I've seen a deer before to-day!" And, clapping
heels to the horse's sides, he dashed through the bushes.
Jack followed a little way, and from his ambush saw him come out of the
undergrowth, strike across the prairie, and disappear around the range
of hills.
[Illustration: JACK AND THE STRANGE YOUTH.]
The deer were still in sight, stopping occasionally to feed, and then,
with heads in air, moving a few paces along the slope. Jack waited with
breathless anxiety to see his horseman emerge from among the hills
beyond. Several minutes elapsed; then, though no horseman appeared, the
old deer, startled by sound or scent of the enemy, threw high her head,
and began to leap, with graceful, undulating movements, along the
hillside.
The fawn darted after her, and for a minute they were hidden from view
in a hollow. The stratagem had so far succeeded. They had started toward
the woods.
Jack, in an ague of agitation, waited for the game to show itself again,
and, by its movements, guide his own. At length the fawn appeared on the
summit of a low hill, and stopped. The doe came up and stopped too, with
elevated nostrils, snuffing. For a rifle, in approved hands, there would
have been a chance for a shot. But the game was far beyond the range of
Jack's gun.
To try his nerve, however, he took aim, or, rather, attempted to take
aim. His hands--if the truth must be confessed--shook so that he could
not keep his piece steady for an instant. Cool fellow enough on ordinary
occasions, he now had a violent attack of what is called the "buck
fever."
Fortunately, the deer had not seen the horseman; and, while they were
recovering from their first alarm, they gave the young hunter time to
subdue, with resolute good sense, his terrible nervous agitation.
They did not stop to feed any more, but moved on, with occasional
pauses, toward the woods; following the line of the hollows, as Jack had
foreseen.
All this time the dog lay whining at his young master's heels. He knew
instinctively that there was sport on foot, and could hardly be kept
quiet.
The deer took another and final start, and came bounding along toward
the spot where the wagon had stood. But for the excitement of the
moment, Jack must have felt a touch of pity at sight of those two
slender, beautiful creatures, so full of life, making for their covert
in the cool woods. But the hunter's spirit was uppermost. He took aim at
the doe, followed her movements a moment with the moving gun, then
fired. She plunged forward, and dropped dead.
The fawn, confused by the report and by the doe's sudden fall, stood for
an instant quite still, then made a few bounds up toward the very spot
where the young hunter was concealed. It stopped again, within twenty
paces of the levelled gun. There it stood, its pretty spotted side
turned toward him, so fair a mark, and so charming a picture, that for a
moment, excited though he was, he could not have the heart to shoot. Ah!
what is this spirit of destruction, which has come down to us from our
barbarous forefathers, and which gives even good-hearted boys like Jack
a wild joy in taking life?
The dog, rendered ungovernable by the firing of the gun, made a noise in
the thicket. The fawn heard, and started to run away. The provocation
was too great for our young hunter, and he sent a charge of buck-shot
after it. The fawn did not fall.
"Take 'em, Lion!" shouted Jack; and out rushed the dog.
The poor thing had been wounded, and the dog soon brought it down. Jack
ran after, to prevent a tearing of the hide and flesh. Then he set up a
wild yell, which might have been heard a mile away on the prairie,--a
call for his horseman, who had not yet reappeared.
Jack dragged the fawn and placed it beside its dam. There lay the two
pretty creatures, slaughtered by his hand.
"It can't be helped," thought he. "If it is right to hunt game, it is
right to kill it. If we eat flesh, we must take life."
So he tried to feel nothing but pure triumph at the sight. Yet I have
heard him say, in relating the adventure, that he could never afterwards
think of the dead doe and pretty fawn, lying there side by side, without
a pang.
He now backed his buggy out of the woods, set the seat forward in order
to make room for the deer behind, and waited for his horse.
"Where can that fellow have gone?" he muttered, with growing anxiety.
He went to a hill-top, to get a good view, and strained his vision,
gazing over the prairie. The sun was almost set, and all the hills were
darkening, save now and then one of the highest summits.
Over one of these Jack suddenly descried a distant object moving. It was
no deer this time, but a horse and rider far away, and going at a
gallop--in the wrong direction.
He gazed until they disappeared over the crest, and the faint sundown
glory faded from it, and he felt the lonesome night shutting down over
the limitless expanse. Then he smote his hands together with fury and
despair.
He knew that the horse was his own, and the rider the strange youth in
whose hands he had so rashly intrusted him. And here he was, five miles
from home, with the darkening forest on one side, and the vast prairie
on the other; the dead doe and fawn lying down there on the dewy grass,
the empty buggy and harness beside them; and only his dog to keep him
company.