n fawns.

As they gained the water, and but barely stuck their noses into the
drink, we both let drive at them: but, in my rising upon my knee to fire
at the buck, he got wind of the courtesies I was about to tender him,
and absolutely dodged my ball. I was too close to miss him; but, as he
"juked"--to use an old-fashioned western word--down his head the moment
he saw fire, the bullet merely made the fur fly down his neck, and, with
a back bound or double somerset, he scooted quicker than uncorked
thunder.

Our eyes met--we both grinned.

"Well, by King," says my friend Mat, "that's shooting!"

"Both missed?" says I.

"Better break for camp, straight: if we should meet a greaser or
Camanche here, they'd take our scalps, and beat us about the jaws with
'em!"

It was thought to bear the complexion of a joke, and we both laughed
quite jocosely at it.

"Now," says I, "old Sweetener," loading up my rifle, "you and I can't
give it up so, no how." Tripping up a cup of the alligator fluid, we
washed down our crumbs, and started. We followed the deer about two
miles up the _bayou_; the land was low prairie bottom, ugly for walking,
and our track was slow and tedious. But, approaching a suspicious place
carefully and cautiously, we had another fair view of the doe and fawns,
feeding and watching on the side of a broad prairie. The distance
between us was quite extensive; we could not well approach within
shooting distance without alarming them. The only alternative was for
my friend Mat to deposit himself among the brush and stuff, and let me
circumvent the critters; one of us would surely get a whack at them. I
started; a slow, tedious scratch and crawl of nearly a mile got me to
the windward of the deer. As I edged down along the high grass and
chapperel, about a branch of the _bayou_, the old doe began to raise her
head occasionally, and scent the air: this, as I got still nearer, she
repeated more frequently, until, at length, she took the hint, and made
a break down towards my friend Mat, who, sharp upon the trigger, just as
the three deer got within fifty yards, raised and fired. 'Bout went the
deer, making a dash for my quarters; but before getting any ways near
me, down toppled one of the young 'uns. Mat had fixed its flint; but my
blood was up--I was not to be fooled out of my shot in that way; and
perceiving my only chance, at best, was to be a long shot, off hand, as
the doe and her remaining fawn dashed by, a