ind him if he did not get up
and move on. And to move on, or even to rise to his feet, seemed utterly
impossible. The least motion sent the most exquisite pain shooting
through his whole body, and I believe he would have died where he lay,
either at the hands of the judge or from exhaustion, if another man
hadn't come along. The judge would have advanced slowly and quietly, and
the deer might never have known he was coming till a rifle bullet hit
him; but this man's errand must have been a different one, for he came
striding noisily through the trees and bushes and over the dead leaves,
whistling "I Want Yer, Ma Honey," at the top of his whistle. If you are
obliged to be out in the woods during the hunting season, and don't care
to kill anything, it is always best to make as much noise as you can.
There is less danger that some other fool will take you for a deer and
shoot you dead. The Buck heard him, of course, and tried to rise, only
to sink back with a groan. He couldn't do it, or at least he thought he
couldn't. But when the man came around a little balsam only two rods
away, then his panic got the better of his pain, and he jumped up and
made off at a clumsy, limping run. Every joint seemed on fire, and he
ached from the top of his head to the toes of that poor left hind-foot.
But after the first plunge it was not quite so bad. The motion took some
of the stiffness out of his limbs, and by the time the judge arrived he
was a mile away and was thinking about breakfast.

We must do the sportsman the justice of saying that his remorse was very
keen when he stepped aboard the train that night, bound for Detroit. He
had wounded a deer and had let it get away from him, to suffer, and
probably to die a painful, lingering death. The whole day--the last of
the hunting season and of his court recess--had been spent in an
unavailing search; not merely because he wanted some venison and a pair
of antlers to carry home with him, but because he wanted to put the Buck
out of his misery. He had failed everywhere, and he felt sorry and
ashamed, and wished he had stayed at home. But, as it happened, the Buck
did not want to be put out of his misery. Just as the judge took the
train he was lying down for the night. He would be stiff when he rose
again, but not as stiff as he had been that morning. He would be weak
and tired, but he would still be able to travel and find food. He would
lose his plumpness and roundness, no doubt, and l