Still we thought we would
run the risk and follow the deer. They ran but a little ways, stopped and
waited until we came in sight, then ran a little ways again. They seemed
afraid to run ahead and huddled up together, the terrible noise in the
timber seemed to frighten them. The last time I got sight of them they
were in a small opening standing by some large old logs. I remember well
to this day just how the place looked. I drew up the rifle and shot.
Father was right behind me; I told him they didn't run. He took the rifle
and handed me my gun, saying, "Shoot this." I shot again, this gun was
heavily loaded and must have made a loud report, but could not have been
heard at any great distance on account of the roaring wind in the
tree-tops. The deer were still in sight, I took the rifle, loaded it, and
shot again; then we loaded both guns but by this time the deer had
disappeared. We went up to where they had stood and there lay a beautiful
deer. Then we looked at the tracks where the others had run off, and
found that one went alone and left a bloody trail, but we thought best to
leave it and take home the one we had killed.
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