"That's it," cried Garry; "well done, Forester--right through the head,
by George!"
And, as he spoke, I fancied for a moment he was right. The noble buck
plunged half his height out of the bright blue water, shaking his head
as if in the death agony, but the next instant he stretched out again
with vigor unimpaired, and I could see that my ball had only knocked a
tine off his left antler.
My second barrel still remained, and without lowering the gun, I drew my
second trigger. Again, a fierce plunge told that the ball had not erred
widely; and this time, when he again sank into his wonted posture, the
deep crimson dye that tinged the foam which curled about his graceful
neck, as he still struggled, feebly fleet, before his unrelenting foes,
gave token of a deadly wound.
Six more strokes of the bending oars--we shot alongside--a noose of rope
was cast across his branching tines, the keen knife flashed across his
throat, and all was over! We towed him to the shore, where Harry and his
comrades were awaiting us with another victim to his unerring aim. We
took both bucks and all hands on board, pulled stoutly homeward, and
found Tom lamenting.
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