I saw the perfection of it a few days later. I was sitting before my
tent door at twilight, watching the herons, when there was a shot and a
sudden crash over on their side. In a moment the big buck plunged out of
the woods and went leaping in swift bounds along the shore, head
high, antlers back, the mighty muscles driving him up and onward as if
invisible wings were bearing him. A dozen great trees were fallen across
his path, one of which, as I afterwards measured, lay a clear eight feet
above the sand. But he never hesitated nor broke his splendid stride.
He would rush at a tree; rise light and swift till above it, where he
turned as if on a pivot, with head thrown back to the wind, actually
resting an instant in air at the very top of his jump; then shoot
downward, not falling but driven still by the impulse of his great
muscles. When he struck, all four feet were close together; and almost
quicker than the eye could follow he was in the air again, sweeping
along the water's edge, or rising like a bird over the next obstacle.

Just below me was a stream, with muddy shores on both sides. I looked to
see if he would stog himself there or turn aside; but he knew the place
better than I, and that just under the soft mud the sand lay firm and,
sure. He struck the muddy place only twice, once on either side
the fifteen-foot stream, sending out a light shower of mud in all
directions; then, because the banks on my side were steep, he leaped for
the cover of the woods and was gone.

I thought I had seen the last of him, when I heard him coming, bump!
bump! bump! the swift blows of his hoofs sounding all together on the
forest floor. So he flashed by, between me and my tent door, barely
swerved aside for my fire, and gave me another beautiful run down the
old road, rising and falling light as thistle-down, with the old trees
arching over him and brushing his antlers as he rocketed along.

The last branch had hardly swished behind him when, across the pond,
the underbrush parted cautiously and Old Wally appeared, trailing a long
gun. He had followed scarcely a dozen of the buck's jumps when he looked
back and saw me watching him from beside a great maple.

"Just a-follerin one o' my tarnal sheep. Strayed off day 'fore
yesterday. Hain't seen 'im, hev ye?" he bawled across.

"Just went along; ten or twelve points on his horns. And say, Wally--"

The old sinner, who was glancing about furtively to see if the white
sand s