The Ouachita telegraph. [volume] (Monroe, La.) 1865-1889, 1879-12-12

me for a moment, for there passing my |
left flank, some ninety yards distant,
was one of the biggest bucks I ever
saw! I had not seen wild deer for
probably twenty years, and here was
his majesty in all his pride and glory |
leisurely stalking the woods before my
fairly enraptured vision. Standing in
front Of the tree immovable, had not
been discovered, nor was when
drew myself down into a small knot at
the root of the gum to await the mon
arch's nearer approach. True, I had
only squirrel shot to deliver, but these
were to be fred, both barrels at once.
The old buck looked ponderous, and
he grew larger every second. His fine
head of horns shone snowy white in
the sunlight and his sides were beauties
of blue, and as he moved, ever and
anon, step Vr two at a time, thought
the poetry OF motion had found a
teacher. My heart throbbed, my pulse
went up to 800, my knees fairly trem-
bled, my head would go bobbing about,
it seemed to me yard in space, and
my whole frame, and doubt not the
towering gum against which had res
olutely braced my poor weak back,
shook with a real buck ag,ee-a disease
which to be enjoyed must be felt. My
thoughts went all round this unsub-
stantial globe, as they had time to do,
up into space, down into the bowels of
the earth, into Georgia, Texas, Mexico,
Asia, all about Monroe aud my friends
Raby, Kobb, Twitchell and the mighty
hunters round about there. thought
about the deer, though, all the time;
where I should shoot him, what
would do with his horns, how to get
him home, whether I liked venison
roasted, stewed, fried, or how best.
Did I suppose he was fat? He could
not be too old. See how he looks my
way, but don't see me, because I look
like part of the tree. All! old fellow,
even if you don't turn my way, you
are going right towards Port, and he
will bore you thro' with his rifle. May
that squirrel keep Port from stirring
o, my fellow-citizens, if you have
tears to shed, just pass them right
along, but let there be merrirnent now.
Just at the moment was telegraphing
my last solemn invocation heaven
wards up that majestic gum, heard
rustling of leaves and cracking of sticks
on my left. felt in my very bones
that Port was coming! Turning my
head in that direction at the rate of a
mile in century, I saw Port ap-
preaching in the most Indifferent man
ner man ever showed. He walked
like an elephant, didn't miss stick
and was coming like drove of wild
cows. He seemed a real live, thorough
going, don't-care-a-dash avalanche!
In desperation I raised my enfeeb1ed
left hand-I had not dared to move or
signal in any way beforehand, expand
ing the fingers with an effort, hastily
placed the hand to my head to indi-
cate horns. Port caught-took in the
movement, and squatted. All, me! it
was too late. The buck had seen Port
first, and pointing his head away to the
jungle on his right, followed his nose
at dog trot, and was seen no more
AS he moved away he blew three blasts
through his nose in token of departure
and in recognition of the danger he
had escaped, or perhaps had never been
in. Port followed short distance, but
soon returned to where I was still sit
ting. I had not risen. My thoughts
were slowly collected, consciousness
gradually returned, breath came into
this mortal body by gasps and long
drawn signs, and I arose dilapidated,
disguised, nerveless noodle. Signing
to Port my ability to move, we adj
vanced few steps and there rested.
A conversation ensued, embracing a
lew SOlcIln IrlltnS. O0C OF these was
to the effect that 1 would be of no &C.
count the remainder of the day and 1
wanted to go home and see my old
uncle. Port, feeling as to himself not
unlike I did as to myself, sweetly as
scented, and homeward we pursued
our melancholy way, engaged like
pious followers Of Brigham Young in
consoling each other and in unraveling
the mysteries of that most mysterious
of all earthly subjects-What might
have been. We reached home, two
wise, hungry hunters, and soothed our
sympathetic stomachs with dinner of
roast duck, potatoes, young turnips,
bacon, coffee and milk. After which
smoked myself into the passive form
of the verb To be.
And so the great disasters of the
morning swiftly mellowed down into
unavoidable accidents, leaving behind
only tender recollections of our unto
ward adventures. Only? No. Mans
ambition knows no bounds. Lend him
a quarter, and he wants dollar. 1t is
not all of life to live, nor to be beaten
at base ball, or ut cribbage, or in firt-