The Deer Stalker

by Zane Grey

  Together they returned to the cabin. This time Eburne was rather agreeably surprised. The tourists turned out to be a family from Boston touring the West and sensibly and happily appreciative of the country and the rangers. The deer stalker was not a little thrilled to hear the well-remembered Yankee twang. The red-haired lady was an attractive girl, neither handsome nor plain, neither aristocratic nor common, and her appearance, talk and action stirred a strange regretful emotion in Eburne. He was almost sorry to see the pleasant family depart soon afterward.

  “Well, they fooled us,” ejaculated Blakener. “Didn’t even want no biscuits!”

  “I’m kind of ashamed of my remarks about tourists,” confessed Eburne. “They were nice people. And the auburn-haired girl—”

  “She took my eye all right,” interrupted Blakener as his comrade hesitated. “Not too pretty! Not stuck on herself!—Thad, some day there’ll be a girl; she’ll ride up here to V. T. Park—an’ you’ll be done with rangerin’ forever.”

  “Could be,” rejoined Thad musingly.

  “Some day, Thad* you’ll have to choose between stalkin’ deer and trailin’ after another kind of dear. For your sake I hope it comes soon.”

  “Right now is a good time to change the subject,” said Eburne and went out to watch his deer trap. He approached by way of the knoll above the spring and kept out of sight. A number of deer had come in, none of which appeared unduly excited by the sight of the captured buck in the side corral. Soon Thad ascertained that the buck was lying down. He espied also two other deer inside the opposite pen—a buck and a doe, of a size and age that he did not want to experiment with. It would have been an easy matter to pull the string arranged at hand for this purpose and thereby shut the trap gate. But he waited for these deer to go out and hoped others more suitable for capture would come in. He was, however, doomed to disappointment. The does and fawns were extremely cautious, and though they evidently were thirsty, they left without getting a drink. The ranger watched for two hours longer, during which time many deer came as far as the new trap he had erected around the water. Not many fawns, however, were included in the number; and it was the young deer that Eburne wanted to take. It occurred to him that some other watering place, where does and fawns were more plentiful, might yield better results.

  Before sunset that day he had planned a more elaborate trap, on a large scale, which he intended to build after giving the present one another tryout. The ranger’s new idea was to extend the fences clear beyond the meadow, taking in a hillside. These fences would be narrowed into a chute, with a gate attached that could be shut behind the deer. Then the animals could be separated by some means or trick he had not yet worked out, and the deer he wanted to keep could be let into a round corral with a very high fence. Here they could be fed and watered until tame enough to handle.

  Next morning the ranger was not surprised to find the captured buck dead. It had a broken jaw and leg and many contusions. He dragged it to the cabin, removed the skin, and saved most of the meat. The autopsy failed to reveal the least sign of fat around its ribs. Though Eburne had expected that the matured deer might do themselves some serious injury when captured, the actual realization of this first tragedy depressed him as if it had come as a surprise.

  Early that afternoon, out of a small bunch of deer coming in for water, a yearling doe and a tiny fawn ventured far enough into Eburne’s pen to permit him to spring the trap gate and capture them. He was elated and at once ran down to the fence. The other deer beat a precipitous retreat.

  Eburne found the doe in better condition than most of the deer he had seen. It was badly frightened, yet ran round the pen instead of butting into the fence. The fawn was rather unsteady on its legs, either from weakness or extreme youth. It was red, fuzzy, with white spots, and the prettiest little animal Thad had ever seen. But for the antics of the doe, the fawn might not have been especially wild. At any rate, Thad had no difficulty in catching it and he packed it in his arms up to the cabin. Blakener was delighted. The two rangers had rescued and saved many a motherless lamb, and they were pretty sure this was an orphaned fawn. Whether it liked milk or not was of little concern to them; they fed it by force. And when Eburne at last set it down on the floor, it did not make any wild efforts to escape. It seemed bewildered rather than frightened.

  “You poor forlorn little thing,” said Eburne compassionately.

  “Thad, let him stay right in here,” suggested Blakener. “He’ll soon get tame. Why he’s so young he’s shaky on his legs— What’ll we call him?”

  “Say, Blake, you’re as softhearted as I am,” declared Eburne with a grin. “We forget we’re capturing deer for our superiors to ship and sell somewhere. That reminds me, I’ve got a yearling doe out there in the trap. Let’s go out and see if we can move her into the large pen. I believe if we open the gates she’ll go out of one pen and into the other.”

  But the rangers found further proof of their meager knowledge of deer. The doe would not drive. Instead she ran so frantically and plunged into the fence so violently that they were forced to abandon the attempt. They left the gate open, but still the doe did not come out. Eburne concluded that she had hurt herself.

  “Let’s get out of sight,” he suggested to Blakener.

  “It’s pretty discouragin’,” admitted Blakener as they climbed the knoll to conceal themselves. “These wild deer can’t be herded or trapped or driven.”

  “Seems so,” agreed Eburne. “But I’m not satisfied yet that we can’t catch them. We may hit on just the right way.”

  “But if out of a dozen or so deer we trap only one isn’t bad hurt— that won’t be a success.”

  “In any event it’s far from humane. However, nothing was said about that. We’ve orders to trap deer alive for shipment out of the preserve…. Hello! There goes our doe. She limps, she’s going on three legs.”

  The rangers watched the sleek, graceful form hobble down the aisle into the open meadow and out among other deer working in for water. Her advent occasioned a halt. The deer took a long time to come in. Blakener went back to the cabin while Eburne kept to his post. Before time to quit arrived he might have pulled the trap gate on several deer, but they appeared to be of a size and age that he did not want. At dusk he gave up for the day and trudged wearily back to camp.

  When Thad entered the big room of the cabin, it was bright with light from fire and lamp. As he strode in, he espied the little captive fawn edging behind a chair. The ranger halted. The fawn peeped out, with long ears erect and large dark eyes shining, slowly drew its head back out of sight, and then very slyly peeped out again. The action captivated Eburne.

  “Hey, your name’s Bopeep,” he called cheerily. When he moved again, the fawn darted to a far and dark corner of the room.

  Blakener appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Thad, she’s sure goin’ to be a pet. Just before you came in I seen her standin’ right here in the door. Big, gentle, soft eyes, like a woman’s! It got me somehow. Hang this deer trappin’. Well, she stood here till I moved.”

  “Ahuh!” replied Thad,” you’re figuring about the same as I, Blake.”

  “An’ how’s that?”

  “Well, if Bopeep peeps at me any more as she just did, she’s one fawn that’ll never be shipped.”

  “You said a lot,” replied Blakener soberly. “Come in here, an’ I’ll bet she peeps at you inside of five minutes.”

  Eburne complied with a laugh and thought he had divined why his partner was late in getting supper. While he washed his hands and face and then stood up to wipe them dry, Blakener remained stock-still, his hands white with flour, and an expression of infantile pleasure on his face.

  “What’d I tell you?” he whispered dramatically.

  Then Thad espied Bopeep almost on the threshold. What wonderful dark, mournful, eloquent eyes! They drew a pang from the ranger’s heart. The fawn was exquisitely timid and shy, yet scarcely frightened.

  “What do you know about that?�
�� whispered Blakener. “Lookin’ for her mother. Now ain’t that cute?”

  During mealtime and for an hour after, Bopeep occupied most of the rangers’ attention. They decided to let her stay in the cabin. It seemed to Eburne that this dark-eyed little fawn somehow brought out the loneliness of their lives. Blakener was not only amusing but pathetic. Thad divined in this simple reaction the fact that they both needed something to love. It was a melancholy realization and lingered long with him while he lay on the floor in his blankets, watching the flickering shadows of the dying fire. Outside the wind rose and soughed through the pines.

  Next morning Eburne wrote letters to officers of the forest service, telling of the difficulties of deer-trapping and that he did not believe the plan would ever be practical or successful or humane. And if he was to continue his experiments, he should have a truckload of wire and lumber sent in at once. These letters were to be given to the first tourists who passed that way.

  Eburne entered more earnestly into the business of trapping deer. He was convinced that the experiment would prove a failure, but he felt duty bound to do his best. That day resulted in several captures, only one of which appeared to be of any value. This was a yearling buck, which by dint of much effort and patience Thad finally got into the large corral.

  Darkness had set in when he returned to the cabin. Blakener informed him that the important letters had gone to Kanab; also that Bopeep had shown unmistakable signs of becoming tame. Eburne was delighted and thought it made up a little for the unsatisfactory day. He was immensely curious to find out if these little fawns could be caught and tamed in sufficient numbers and to an extent that would warrant the labor and the sacrifice of other deer.

  The following afternoon proved to be one of those times when more deer than usual entered the park. Not all of these came to water, but by midafternoon Eburne was sure several hundred deer had passed through the lane and out the corral gate. He had a number of chances to spring the trap gate, but he chose to let them go.

  Then just before sunset a doe and a fawn unsuspectingly entered the trap. Eburne pulled the string that dropped the gate. He was congratulating himself on an easy capture when the doe became wild to escape and plunged around the enclosure. He concluded to remain where he was until she had quieted down. Presently, after a crashing thud into the fence, she did become quiet. Thad could not see very well. He waited a little while. Then, as he did not see any movement of gray forms or hear any sounds, he hurried down to the corral.

  The doe was lying on the ground motionless, and the little fawn was standing beside her, shaking and bewildered. The ranger went inside. Examination proved that the doe had broken her neck. The accident shocked Thad more than any of the other tragedies, probably on account of the forlorn little fawn. He had no difficulty in catching it in his arms and at once strode off toward the cabin.

  “It’s a little buck,” said Eburne to Blakener. “We’ll call him Bo.”

  Blakener was delighted with the new addition to the household, yet when he heard the particulars of the capture, he regretted the necessity of this work. The little buck was slightly larger than Bopeep, but not so brightly spotted. He was very thin and poorly nourished.

  “His mother was in the poorest condition of any deer I’ve seen,” said Eburne. “We can’t even use the meat. No wonder her fawn is thin. Let’s feed him.”

  The two rangers had to use force. Blakener held Bo between his knees and opened his mouth while Eburne poured milk down his throat. Bo squirmed and choked, but he had to swallow. Bopeep stood close by, tremendously interested in this procedure. When he was released, to stagger in terror away from his captors, she followed him and stayed close to him.

  “He’ll tame easier because of Bopeep,” said Eburne. “Well, Blake, you look after our menagerie while I go back to the rotten job.”

  By the time another week had passed, many things had happened. Eburne was a sadder and wiser man. Out of four captured deer, three had died of injury or grief and one had shown some slight indication of recovering. Another fawn had been added to keep company with Bo and Bopeep.

  The matter of caring for the fawns was something entirely different. The rangers liked it immensely. Bopeep, especially, became lovable and as tame and playful as a kitten. Bo followed Blakener about the cabin as if he were his mother. And the third fawn was responding rapidly at least to kindness, if not to the kind of nourishment given him. In a few days more he became a pet like his comrades, but he did not thrive. And he died from no cause that the rangers could discover.

  Bo and Bopeep grew to be such pets that they were permitted to go outdoors and follow the rangers around. One day Bo disappeared. Blakener, who was alone at the cabin when this happened, hurriedly searched all over the park, but in vain. Upon Eburne’s return the two rangers decided that Bo had not become lost but had run off. They reluctantly gave up the search. On the morning of the third day, however, he came home and quite blithely pattered upon the porch and into the cabin, to the infinite amazement and pleasure of the rangers.

  “Oho, you came back!” ejaculated Eburne. “Starved, hey? Lost all that fat we put on you?”

  Bo manifested satisfaction over his return to the cabin and the companionship of Bopeep, but he did not appear to be hungry. This worried Eburne, who remarked to his comrade that these little wild creatures were extremely delicate and hard to understand. That evening Bo drank heartily of cold water, behind the rangers’ backs, as it were; and the overindulgence killed him.

  This was a blow to the rangers. It absolutely convinced Eburne of the almost impossible task of saving any number of fawns, even if they could be secured. He wrote and dispatched a detailed report of all that had happened and his reluctance to go on with this deertrapping work.

  Beautiful summer weather had come, and every day more motoring tourists visited V. T. Park. Blakener resigned himself more or less gracefully to the inevitable, but Thad hated the sound and sight and smell of automobiles. Most of the tourists were agreeable and diverting, pleasant to meet, but he would rather have avoided them.

  “Say, Thad, if I was you I’d go to Kanab an’ lay that proposition of McKay’s before the supervisors,” suggested Blakener. “You’ve got a good excuse. That wire and lumber you ordered hasn’t come. Reckon you can find out a lot of things interestin’ for us.”

  “Blake, it’s a good hunch. I’ll go,” declared Eburne. “Take good care of Bopeep while I’m gone. I’ll find out when that investigating committee is due. And about this plan for opening the forest to the hunters. If the time proves right I’ll submit McKay’s proposition to the authorities. And don’t you think I won’t look into the Settle-mire-Dyott deal, whatever it is.”

  “Fine and dandy,” replied his partner. “Reckon you’ll be gone a week or so. It’s gettin’ on into June now, Thad. Soon you’ll be leavin’ for your summer station at Big Spruce.”

  “Yes, unless I get fired—which is altogether possible,” rejoined Eburne. “Believe me, Blake, I’m going to let my hair down with these officers.”

  “Huh! It won’t do no good,” growled Blakener.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NIGHT had fallen when the Santa Fe train that was bearing Patricia Edgerton to a new and unknown future crossed the New Mexico state line into Arizona. The magic name Arizona dispelled for the first time on this long journey the gloom that had filled her mind. From childhood that name had been alluring. But now, when at last she had entered the region of enchanting colors and desert grandeur, she could not see anything for the mantle of darkness. Wearily then she sought illusive sleep. But she lay tossing in her berth until far into the night. She awoke to find the sun already high in the sky.

  The train appeared to be straining and winding up a grade. Patricia could hear the panting of the engine. When she looked out she saw rough gray and green hills, steep at the base, with a wide stratum of yellow rock. In the narrow valley through which the train was winding, rugged pine trees, strange to her, grew wid
e apart and spread gnarled branches over the thin soil.

  She had taken this side trip to visit the Grand Canyon for no other reason than that the ticket agent had suggested it. All she had wanted was to leave New York. To go and keep on going had been her motive, without regard to what she might see. Passengers on the train talked volubly and enthusiastically about the Grand Canyon. To them, manifestly, the sight of this place would be a long-awaited event. Several mild-faced old ladies had tried to engage Patricia in conversation. She wondered at their eagerness and envied them their age and the hearty enthusiasm with which they seemed to enjoy travel and each new experience.

  After endless twistings and turnings the train arrived at Grand Canyon station. The building appeared to be set down in a pine forest. As Patricia descended from the Pullman and began pointing out her many pieces of luggage, she was struck by the wonderful keenness of the atmosphere and the warm fragrance of the thin air. It seemed dry and sweet with a piney tang.

  She followed the grinning, uniformed bellboys up a wide wooden stairway, not at all steep, yet she soon found herself out of breath. She imagined the long train ride had exhausted her: then she was forced to deny the thought, as she was young and in perfect health. It had been strife and agony of mind which had taxed her strength.

  At the top of the stairway the Hotel El Tovar appeared, a long, low, rambling structure, built of logs, yet pleasing to the eye and giving every indication of comfort. Broad roads and bridle paths led away from it, winding among the pines. From the porch she espied an odd flat-topped structure, its walls built of red stone, from which protruded rough poles. The thing had a primitive look, unmistakably Indian.

  The sun shone intensely bright, she thought, for a May morning, and the sky appeared unusually blue and wide. As she crossed the broad hotel porch she was able to see beyond the line of shrubbery to where apparently the level ground ended abruptly. Beyond extended what seemed to be a pink and mauve and blue void. This, of course, must be the Grand Canyon. This must be the wonder of the world which people came so many miles to see. Abruptly she turned to follow the bellboys through the wide door.