Meshack left the buck and ran to the relief of his friend, thinking, as he did so, that he had probably fallen among the stones and had broken his leg, for the ground was rocky and full of holes. As he ran towards him, he said to himself: “If he has broken a leg, I will first take my ropes and will tie him to a tree, then I will pull it out straight, set the bone, and will tear up some clothes and wrap them around the limb, scrape a place clear of snow, build a good fire, and leave him here while I go for a horse and sled on which to carry him home.”
He was to be agreeably disappointed. As he came in sight of his friend, he observed him lying upon his back with his knees drawn up towards his face, and his large, wide snow-shoes turned up to the sun. Before him stood one of the largest bucks, with his tail spread, his hair bristled up, and his eyes glowing fire. He was carefully watching the prostrate trapper, and every time that he moved the buck would spring upon him and would beat him over the head and face with his feet until he became quiet again. The irate deer would wait until Louis would make another move, then he would again jump upon him.
This was the same buck that had hidden underneath the log when Meshack had passed by. The animal had recovered his breath, and, as Van Sickle approached, sprang upon him suddenly. Striking the astonished trapper with his fore feet, he threw him backwards in the deep snow, and every time that the scout would attempt to arise, the deer would attack and strike at him until he would lie still.
How often the buck had repeated this chastisement before Meshack came in sight is difficult to say. When the trapper saw his companion lying motionless, and hallooing vociferously for help, he could not suppress a loud laugh. Van Sickle made several attempts to rise, but in vain; for the buck gave him a sound beating at every move. The prostrate woodsman was furious with rage. He cried out loudly:
“You intend to let me freeze here in the snow, Browning? That is death, anyway, and I am going to get out of this fix, or else lose my life in the attempt. Can’t you drive this cursed buck away?”
As he ceased speaking, he made another move, and, as the buck sprang upon him again with his fore feet, he reached up, passed one arm around the animal’s neck, and then the other. Drawing the deer close to him, he vigorously endeavored to upset his valiant opponent. Meshack continued his laughter, for it was certainly a novel wrestling match, and the buck seemed to have the trapper at his mercy. He determined to let his friend fight it out to the bitter end, without any assistance on his part.
The buck seemed to be weakening after fifteen minutes of struggling, and Louis now raised his legs and threw them over the animal’s back. The snow-shoes were somewhat in the way, but he withdrew his right hand from the deer’s neck, and, as he lay beneath him, began to strike him in the ribs with his closed fist.
“It’s now your turn, you rascal,” he called out. “You have had your innings, and it is now my opportunity. How do you like this—and this—and this?”
Every time that he punched the buck the deer would grunt and endeavor to strike him with his fore feet.
Meshack had stopped laughing by now, and walking up to the fighting trapper, said: