e was to vanish,
to melt away like a big, portentous shadow into the silent deeps of
the wood. His next, due to the season, was to rush upon the man and
smite him.

Then he realized that he himself was not the object of the man's
stealthy approach. He saw that what the hunter was intent upon was
that buck out in the field. Thereupon he sank back on his great black
haunches to watch the course of events. Little did Sam Coxen guess of
those cunning red eyes that followed him as he crawled by.

At the point where the cover came nearest to the cabbage patch, Coxen
found himself still out of range. Cocking his gun, he strode some
twenty paces into the open, paused, and took a long, deliberate aim.

Catching sight of him the moment he emerged, the buck stood for some
moments eyeing him with sheer curiosity. Was this a harmless
passer-by, or a would-be trespasser on his new domain of cabbages? On
second glance, he decided that it looked like the noisy figure which
had waved defiance from the top of the fence. Realizing this, a red
gleam came into the buck's eye. He wheeled, stamped, and shook his
antlers in challenge.

At this moment, having got a good aim, Coxen pulled the trigger. The
cap refused to explode. Angrily he lowered the gun, removed the cap
and examined it. It looked all right, and there was plenty of priming
in the tube. He turned the cap round, and again took careful aim.

Now these actions seemed to the buck nothing less than a plain
invitation to mortal combat. He was in just the mood to accept such an
invitation. In two bounds he cleared the cabbages and came mincingly
down to the fray.

This unexpected turn of affairs so flustered the inexperienced hunter
that he altogether forgot to cock his gun. Twice he pulled desperately
on the trigger, but with no result. Then, smitten with a sense of
impotence, he hurled the gun at the enemy and fled.

Over the fence he went almost at a bound, and darted for the nearest
tree that looked easy to climb. As his ill luck would have it, this
tree stood just on the edge of the thicket wherein the much-interested
bear was keeping watch.

A wild animal knows when a man is running away, and rarely loses a
chance to show its appreciation of the fact. As Sam Coxen sprang for
the lowest branch and swung himself up, the bear lumbered out from his
thicket and reared himself menacingly against the trunk.

The buck, who had just cleared the fence, stopped short. It was
cle