But I tried it once more; found the
quarry on a ridge deep in the woods, and followed--more by
good-luck than by good management--till, late in the afternoon, I
saw the buck with two smaller deer standing far away on a half-
cleared hillside, quietly watching a wide stretch of country
below. Beyond them the ridge narrowed gradually to a long neck,
ending in a high open bluff above the river.
There I tried my last hunter's dodge--manoeuvered craftily till
near the deer, which were hidden by dense thickets, and rushed
straight at them, thinking they would either break away down the
open hillside, and so give me a running shot, or else rush
straightaway at the sudden alarm and be caught on the bluff
beyond.
Was it simple instinct, I wonder, or did the buck that had grown
old in hunter's wiles feel what was passing in my mind, and like
a flash take the chance that would save, not only his own life,
but the lives of the two that followed him? At the first alarm
they separated; the two smaller deer broke away down the
hillside, giving me as pretty a shot as one could wish. But I
scarcely noticed them; my eyes were following eagerly a swift
waving of brush tops, which told me that the big buck was jumping
away, straight into the natural trap ahead.
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