XXI

READY!


Say, fellows, once in my life--and only once--I had a chance to shoot
a deer. It was in the Tennessee mountains. A party of us boys
travelled over a rough mountain road all of two days before reaching
the hunting grounds. About daylight of the third day each one of us
was given a "stand," that is, stationed at a point where the game
would likely pass when started by the hounds. The seasoned old guide
cautioned us to keep still and watch. "One thing sartin," said he,
"deer is in thar, an' when they comes out they comes this a-way."

I had never been deer hunting before. I have never been since. It was
my one opportunity, and as the party left me, to distribute themselves
at other points of vantage along the "run," I took up my stand under
considerable excitement. In an hour I heard the dogs far in the
distance. 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