Mr. Duvall usta ride a blazed-face, sarl [HW: sorrel] mare named Kit. He
most al'ays taken me up behind him, 'specially if he was goin' to town.
Kit was trained to hunt deer. I can't remember any deer in the country
but Mr. Duvall yousta tell me 'bout 'em an 'bout the way they had their
hawses trained. He said there wus a place down on Panther Lick Creek,
below where we lived, that was a deer lick. The deer would come there
and lick the ground close to the creek because there was salt left there
by the high waters. He'd put a strap with a littel bell on 'round ole
Kit's neck; an' tie her to a tree not far from this lick. Then he'd hide
behin' 'nother tree close to Kit. When the deer come ole Kit'd shake her
head an' the deer would raise their heads to see what the noise made by
the bell was an' where it was comin' from. Then he'd shoot the deer in
the head. He showed me the place where he killed the biggest buck he
ever seen right here jess out o' town a little ways. He kept the horns.
An' I remember seein' 'em in the attic at his house. He had an ole
riffle he called "Ole Betsy" that'd been his deer rifle.

After I got to be a big boy, huntin' and fishin' was good. I never got
to do any uv it except on Saturdays and Sundays. Everbody had a brush
fence 'round the house to keep the stock in out o' the yard and one day
I seen a big bird sail down on the fence and run under it. Mother was
out in the back yard so I said to myself, I'll get the gun and kill that
hawk. I taken good aim at its head and banged away. At the crack o' the
gun I never heard such a flutterin' in my life. Mother come runnin' to
see what was the matter and when she seen it, she said, Son, that's a
pheasant. Some day you'll be a good hunter. An' guess I was for I killed
lots o' pheasants, quail, squir'ls and rabbits.

Little Sammy Duvall had a pointer he called "Quail". She was the