s nearly sundown, I told Frank that
we had better let the deer go until morning, when we would have more
daylight ahead of us, and we would get the deer with less trouble.

We started for camp and had gone only a short distance when Frank
said he would work along the ridge a little and see if he could not
kill a partridge.

[Illustration: FOOT OF TREE SET.]

I went on to camp and when dark came I couldn't see nor hear anything
of Frank. I ate my supper, and as I could get no word from Frank
either by shouting or firing my gun, I climbed to the top of the
ridge so I could be heard for a greater distance, but still I could
get no answer. It had turned warmer and what little snow was on the
ground had melted. I could not follow his trail in the dark, so went
back to camp and built a good big fire outside of the camp in case
Frank should come in sight, he might see the light and come in. At
intervals of half an hour, I would call as loud as I could. I kept
this up until midnight, when I lay down to get a little sleep,
knowing that I could not help matters by staying up.

At daylight the next morning I was on the ridge at the place where I
last saw Frank, and by close watch managed to follow his trail while
he was in the hardwood timber, where there was a heavy fall of
leaves; but when he struck into the heavy hemlock timber, I could no
longer track him. However, I had tracked him sufficiently far enough
to see that he had gone back to look for the wounded deer. I made
tracks in the direction I expected the wounded deer would be likely
to lie down. After some searching I found the bed of the deer, also
tracks of a man, which I knew to be Frank. But I could only follow
the trail a short distance from where he had driven the deer out of
its bed. There were plenty of deer tracks all around, but knowing
that the wounded deer would naturally work down the draw, I worked my
way along the hollow, keeping a close lookout for any signs of the
wounded deer that I might chance to cross. At different times, I
found a few drops of blood, but no signs of Frank.

I had worked down the hollow some ways, when I ran onto the wounded
deer; it staggered to its feet, but was too near gone to keep its
feet. I finished it by shooting it in its head. I removed the
entrails as quickly as I could, bent down a sapling and hung the deer
up, and then made tracks down the stream the best I could shouting
and occasionally firing off my gun.

We