Tom Temple's Career

by Jr. Horatio Alger

Before he could do so, the angry snort that he had heard before sounded so close at his elbow that he looked around. That which he saw was startling indeed. The stag was plowing like a steam-tug through the water and coming straight for the boat. His fierce front left no doubt of his earnestness, and Jud Jarvis awoke to the fact that while he was hunting the stag, the stag had turned about to hunt him.

The movement was so unexpected that the usually clear-headed youth was thrown into a panic. His gun could not be fired until the hitch was removed, and believing he had no time to do that, he plunged overboard.

In that trying moment, Jud could not forget the valuable rifle in his hand. He meant to hold fast to that, come what might. He was a strong swimmer, and he went down until one foot touched the pebbly bottom. Immediately he gave a light spring, which sent him upward like a cork. Flirting the water from his eyes he looked about him.

The dugout almost touched his nose, so that for the moment he saw nothing of the stag. If the latter had struck the craft with his antlers he had failed to overturn it.

“I may as well make some use of you,” reflected Jud, catching hold of the gunwale with one hand, and placing his rifle within; “I think the gun will be as safe there as anywhere.”

He swam to the stern with the intention of climbing into the rude craft, when the stag came into view. He was moving around the boat, intently looking for the youth that had dared to shoot at him. With a sagacity hardly to be expected, he discerned the guilty from the innocent, and, instead of making a blind assault upon the dugout, he waited for the hunter to reappear. When he did so, he gave him his undivided attention.

Jud’s panic was gone. His hands were free and he was afraid of no animal in the water. The current was cold, for the autumn was well along, but he cared nothing for that. He “trod water” until the bouquet of prongs was almost upon him. He did not fear them, for, as is well known, the most effectual weapons of the deer species at certain times are his fore feet. Rearing on his hind legs, he brings his forward hoofs close together, the fronts turned down so that they become a couple of joined knives, capable of inflicting a frightful gash. The stag of course appeals to his antlers, and they are formidable in the way of defense, but when his sharp hoofs will serve him better, he is quick to use them.

It was these hoofs that Jarvis feared. He was in front of them, and their movement while swimming was such as to gouge his chest if he should be struck. Therefore, at the right moment, he dived under the stag.

Touching bottom as before, Jud opened his eyes and looked toward the sky. The water was of such crystalline clearness that, when paddling along, he could see the pebbly bed, except in the very deepest portion. He had subjected his eyes, however, to a most trying ordeal. The contact of the water with the sensitive organs caused a smarting sensation, and the former assumed a yellow tinge which interfered with his vision.

But he was blessed with unusually strong eyes, and when he looked up he saw the stag over his head. He seemed to be a huge, grotesque creature walking through the translucent atmosphere on his hind legs. His body was almost erect, and the swiftly moving legs churned the water, as if they were beating the air.