As the antlers of the buck struck him he was thrown like a limp dummy
toward the fallen tree, and, in reality, his greatest peril was
therefrom. Had he been driven with full momentum against the solid
trunk, he would have been killed as if smitten by a lightning stroke.

But his feet were entangled in some way and he fell headlong, his
forehead within a few inches of the bark, and his head itself was driven
under the trunk, which at that point was perhaps a foot above the
ground.

Instinctively the nearly senseless lad did the only thing that could
save him. He crawled under the trunk, so that it stood like a roof over
him.

His head was toward the base, and he pushed along until the lessening
space would not permit him to go further.

Thus he lay parallel with the uprooted tree, his feet at a point where
the bark almost touched his heels, the space growing less and less
toward his shoulders, until the back of his head rested against the
shaggy bark and his nose touched the leaves.

He had scarcely done this when he heard a thud at his elbow: it was
made by the knife-like hoofs of the buck, who, rearing on his hind
legs, gathered his two front ones close together and brought them down
with such force that, had they fallen on the body of the lad, as was
intended, they would have cut into him like the edge of a powerfully
driven ax.