"Should think you'd begin to get discouraged," he said at last.
Uncle John and Mr. Larzalere only smiled at the idea, and advised Billy to wait. In the meantime, they talked with great enthusiasm of salt-licks, runways, bucks, does, and fawns, and a certain "Old Timer" that interested Billy more than anything else that lived in the woods. The little boy dreamed of the "Old Timer," and one never to be forgotten morning he saw him.
Mr. Larzalere had promised to meet Uncle John at the "Big Stone," and Billy had begged to be taken along. He hadn't the least idea where the "Big Stone" was, but, from listening to the daily talk of the hunters, he believed that all the animals in the woods trooped by that enchanted spot ever day; possibly they formed a procession and marched past. Mr. Larzalere and Uncle John seemed always to reach the place either too late or too early to see all that happened. Uncle John told Billy that, when he was bigger, he would gladly take him hunting, but little boys seven years old were too small to think of shooting "Old Timers."
"But, Uncle John, of course, I don't want to shoot the 'Old Timer,'" persisted Billy. "I just want to see his big horns, and if you'll let me go, I'll climb up on the 'Big Stone' and sit right still until you come after me. You and Mr. Larzalere can leave me there while you hunt."
"Couldn't think of it, Billy," replied Uncle John. "When Mr. Larzalere and I drag in the Old Timer, then you'll see him."
"That isn't the way I want to see him," said Billy to his mother. "I want to see him while he is alive. I've seen hundreds of dead deer down to the depot. What I want to see is the 'Old Timer' holding his own horns high,—high and running fast,—fast as if he was happy and wasn't afraid of hunters."
Early the next morning Billy was up and gazing wistfully out-of-doors. In spite of the rain pelting against the window, Billy wanted to go hunting, and wondered how his Uncle John could lie in bed and sleep after daylight. Suddenly the small boy rubbed his eyes and stared. Across the common, in front of Mr. Larzalere's house, he saw the "Old Timer." A moment later the deer lifted his wide, spreading horns, stood quietly gazing toward the house, then came bounding across the common, pausing a moment at Billy's gate before making a dash for the woods.
"Oh, I saw him! I saw him!" cried Billy, rushing from window to window, hoping for another glimpse of the deer.
In a little while Mr. Larzalere came, calling loudly upon Uncle John to get his gun and follow the deer. He was wet to the skin, and a more excited man Billy never saw.
"Where—where's your gun?" asked Billy. "Uncle John isn't dressed yet; he says he'll hurry."