“You’re my game!” he exclaimed, aiming at the animal and discharging the two barrels in quick succession.
He did better than Tom Wagstaff, though he failed to drop the buck in his tracks, as he expected to do.
In fact, it seems to be one of the impossibilities to kill any of the cervus species instantly—that is, so as to cause him to fall at once, like many other animals when mortally hurt.
I once sent a bullet straight through the heart of a deer that was running broadside past me. He kept straight on with unabated speed for a dozen yards, when he crashed directly against the trunk of a tree and fell all in a heap. But for the tree in his way he would have run considerably further.
Bob lost his head very much as Tom had done a minute before, for observing that the buck did not fall, he clubbed his gun and rushed forward with the intention of braining him.
But from this point forward there was no parallelism in the flow of incidents.
The buck had been slightly wounded, just enough to rouse his anger. It is not impossible, also, that the sight of a second hunter and the sound of the baying hound near at hand convinced him that he was caught in close quarters and must make a fight for it.
So when Bob rushed to meet him, instead of fleeing, the buck lowered his antlers and rushed to meet Bob.
“Jewhilakens!” exclaimed the terrified youth, “I didn’t think of that!”
And wheeling about, he fled for his life.