Accordingly, Blaze was made fast to a stout sappling, and Sam proceeded to kindle a fire in his pan, at the same time explaining to me, in a low voice, the modus operandi of the Fire-Hunt, which he accompanied with sundry precautionary hints and directions for my own especial observance on the present occasion.
“Now, Major,” said he, “you must keep close to me, and you mustn’t make no racket in the bushes. You see, the way we does to shine the deer’s eyes is this—we holds the pan so, on the left shoulder, and carries the gun at a trail in the right hand. Well, when I wants to look for eyes, I turns round slow, and looks right at the edge of my shadder, what’s made by the light behind me in the pan, and if ther’s a deer in gun-shot of me, his eyes’ll shine ’zactly like two balls of fire.”
This explanation was as clear as Sam could make it, short of a demonstration, for which purpose we now moved on through the woods. After proceeding a few hundred yards, Sam took a survey as described, but saw no eyes.
“Never mind, Major,” said he, “we’ll find ’em—you see.”
We moved on cautiously, and Sam made his observations as before, but with no better success. Thus we travelled on in silence, from place to place, until I began to get weary of the sport.
“Well, Mr. Sikes,” I remarked, “I don’t see that your bad beginning to-night is likely to insure any better ending.”
“Oh, don’t git out of patience, Major—you’ll see.”
We moved on again. I had become quite weary, and fell some distance behind. Sam stopped, and when I came up, he said, in a low voice:
“You better keep pretty close up, Major, ’case if I should happen to shine your eyes, you see, I moughtn’t know ’em from a deer, and old Betsey here toats fifteen buck-shot and a ball, and slings ’em to kill.”
I fell behind no more.