ng to be shot at. And
there was another excuse that I have mentioned before--buck fever: the
disease that comes when a big buck deer jumps up from nowhere, and
causes the hunter to lose his head and do the wrong thing.

You would think that Injun and Whitey would have been over that? Well,
perhaps they should have been immune, but you will remember that our
mighty hunters were just boys, and even frontier boys can be excused for
a sudden attack of a complaint that grownups have. And the grownup who
says that he never has had it, at some time in his life, that Mr.
Grownup has not done any deer hunting, or that Mr. Grownup lies. And
what's more, some grownups never get over it.

Perhaps Sitting Bull had given the fever to Injun, for the dog was
trembling so that he shook the canoe; each particular hair stood on end,
and if any one had stroked Bull, he probably would have got the electric
shock of his life. Anyway, Injun sure had buck fever for the first time
in his young life, for in bracing himself for his next shot he sat too
far back on his left leg, and when he let go his arrow, over went the
canoe. All hopes for a successful issue of that battle would have ended
right there had not Injun's arrow by a lucky shot gone straight into Mr.
Deer's heart. With one mighty lunge in the air he fell back in the water
toward the shore, where his horns and part of his body remained above
the surface. When the canoe went over, Whitey held his rifle high over
his head, so it was still dry and ready for use--a needless precaution
in this case.

I hate to write this part of the story. The deer's daughter--she must
have been his daughter--had lots and lots of chances to run away, but
she didn't do it. She just stood there like the poor, timid, scared
thing she was, with every quiver of her graceful body, every look of her
big, brown, childlike eyes saying, "Please, why did you kill my father,
who was my only protector? And please, please don't hurt me!"

Did you, Mr. or Miss Reader, ever have a helpless animal look at you in
that way? If you did, you know it's awful--awful to remember!

Whitey fired. He couldn't miss at that distance. And he ran forward to
force Miss Deer to fall on the bank, clear of the water, which she did.
She looked at Whitey while he was shoving her over, Whitey nor no one
else can ever describe that look, and Whitey, boy as he was, turned away
his head as she fell. Injun stood by dripping, silent, his face a