The Silver State

Big Game Right in Camp at Dun Glen.

Last Sunday morning while Frank Nelson was watering his horses near the house, a fine fat buck was observed to leave the creek and head toward Rock Hill. By the time he got a rifle the deer had placed over 200 yards between him and danger, and two shots fired at long range without proper elevation only hastened the retreat, the deer passing over a ridge out of sight. An old hunter would have given up the chase then and there, but the blood of the youthful nimrod was up, so Frank followed the buck over the ridge, and by rare good fortune came upon him in a little ravine. The noble game essayed to make his final escape, but a bullet from the pursuer's rifle was sent crashing through his head at 125 steps, the first rattle. Many of the residents of the Glen enjoyed the treat of seeing their first real dead deer, which proved to be a two-year-old black tail, weighing 180 pounds as killed and 120 dressed. Every one in the canyon had venison for breakfast that morning, and the like is not expected to happen again much short of next Columbus day. It was the first deer ever shot by the novice, if not the first ever seen, and considering the running cross shot and the known tendency of such an occasion to produce buck-fever, the youth may well be proud of the result of his maiden deer hunt. If the posse that met disaster at Young's cabin had substituted Frank for the pet goat killer and those Yuma trailers, the scalp of Evans and Sontag might have adorned the saddles of the return party.

W. S. H.