nearly popped out--my eyes. There, within fifty feet of me, stood a
magnificent buck.

I shall never forget the picture. His beautiful, keen limbs slightly
quivering, his sleek sides glistening in the slanting rays of the sun
as they throbbed in and out with his rapid panting. His head held
high, the antlers looked like a picture.

All this had happened in less than five seconds. I only had to veer my
gun two inches. My hand was on the trigger, and with a perfect "bead"
on his left shoulder--right where the old guide had said the night
before was the spot to aim for.

Snap! left barrel.

Snap! right barrel.

Off like the wind, Mr. Buck!

Fellows, I have never been sicker than I was at that moment, but once.
My sickest was in the next moment, when I unbreached my gun and found
_there was no shell in either barrel_!

Foolish?

You can call it any name you please and I won't defend it. Think of me
at the camp-fire that night, fellows.

Foolish? Yes, I suppose that is the right word. It is a much stronger
word, though, than we realize. Jesus used it in this parable of the