The great West., 1889-12-06
DEAR EXPERIENCE.

DEAR EXPERIENCE.
A Hunting Story. the Truth OF
which is Vouched for by the
Relator.
Mr.. Harding, a very respectable bus
mess man of Bangor, Maine, with q
friend had tried the deer grounds of
Gouldsboro, and had hunted nearly all
day without sign OF deer, ether
than the tracks, and were about dis
couraged. At last they came to
brook, and beyond the brook a deer.
Here Harding's friend and guide was
sure that they ought to sight deer.
and very cautiously they passed the
brook. There were fresh tracks that
led up the hill. Harding took one set
OF very large tracks and his friend an
other. Cautiously ne followed up the
hill till he got where he dared to peep
over. He lay fiat on his stomach and
took look. The first sight was dis
appointing. There were cattle brows-
ing-the land was partially cleared.
But about 100 yards beyond the cattle,
though some of the cattle had bells on,
there was a beautiful buck. He
stood head on; his quick ear or scent
had detected the presence of a more
dangerous enemy than the COWS with
bells on. Harding had nothing but
muzzle-loading rifle, but one with
which he had done some fine work.
He was man of quick thought and OF
quick action. He glanced along the
barrel. In his crawling over the hill
he had broken off the forward sight of
his rifle. but the magnificent deer stood
there, head erect and just ready to
jump. Harding was bound to shoot,
and he pointed the rifle as best he
could. The report startled the COWS
into a run, but the buck fell as stiff as
log. Harding shouted to his friend
and ran to cut the deer's throat with
his hunting knife. He came up to
where the animal had fallen, but he
was gathering up and was nearly erect,
though rather dizzily, and was
beginning to get away. This
would never do. Harding was as quick
of action as OF thought, and he made
grab for the buck and just succeeded in
getting good hold of the short tail
of the beast. Here he hung on for
dear life-deer death it proved-and
the buck began to bound away. The
ground was covered with hummocks
and logs, but Harding hung on. Here
he paused in his story.
Harry, did you ever, when you
were boy. try to hang on to the tail
board of a wagon, with the driver
whipping up his horses in order &c
shake you Off"
Eyes, have.'
"Well, you know just how that deer
was making my legs hum, only could
not let go as easily as you could let go
of the wagon on the smooth road, and
it would not do to let go, for wanted
that buck. All at once he stumbled
over one of those hummocks and fell
to his knees. His prongs plowed the
next hummock and stuck fast. He was
my buck and he was down, and ]
jumped for his throat, calling to my
friend. The buck kicked as only deer
can kick with those mighty long legs
of his. tried to approach his head,
but with we'll directed stroke of his
hind leg he ripped my vest, shirt
pants and drawers from my throat
down almost to my feet and came near
cutting my head off with his sharp
huofs. Then my friend came up and
helped me dispatch the deer. After
ward he dryly remarked that his first
thought was that I was about to retire
from the conflict was so we'll un-
buttOned."
Now, Harry, where do you suppose
that buck was hit? The bullet had
just grazed his backbone lengthwise
and for the moment paralyzed him.
Forest and Stream.