Lightfoot the Deer by Thornton W. (Thornton Waldo) Burgess
page 49 of 77 (63%)
page 49 of 77 (63%)
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Had it not been for him, I'd have that Deer right now. He was
too tired to have gone far. He's got the handsomest pair of antlers I've seen for years. I can sell that head of his for a good price." So the hunter tied his boat to a tree and once more climbed out. He climbed up the bank and studied the land. Across a wide meadow he could see a brushy old pasture and back of that some thick woods. He grinned. "That's where that Deer will head for," he decided. "There isn't any other place for him to go. All I've got to do is be patient and wait." So the hunter took his terrible gun and tramped across the meadow to the brush-grown pasture. There he hid among the bushes where he could peep out and watch the land of Lightfoot's friend. He was still angry because he had been prevented from shooting Lightfoot. At the same time he chuckled, because he thought himself very smart. Lightfoot couldn't possibly reach the shelter of the woods without giving him a shot, and he hadn't the least doubt that Lightfoot would start for the woods just as soon as he felt able to travel. So he made himself comfortable and prepared to wait the rest of the day, if necessary. Now Lightfoot's friend who had driven the hunter off had seen him row down the river and he had guessed just what was in that hunter's mind. "We'll fool him," said he, chuckling to himself, as he walked back towards the shed where poor Lightfoot was resting. |
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