I also ceased hunting. The provisions were soon exhausted. Nothing was left but coffee and sugar, of which we had a fair supply. With a drink of strong coffee well saturated with sugar, and jolly in spirit, we treated the situation as a huge joke. We all started out for venison. I saw nothing during the day, but frequently heard the report of the rifles of my partners. Each shot was full of hope. We all returned quite late in the evening, and the report of nothing killed was somewhat dismaying. We made, however, a cup of strong coffee--told our best stories, then rolled ourselves in our blankets to dream of home, and of our father's house, where there was bread enough and to spare. We rose early the next morning, taciturn and sad; not much conversation was indulged in. Each, after his breakfast of coffee and sugar, took his own course into the woods, while I had my accustomed ill luck of seeing no game. I heard reports of my companions' rifles, but their echoes did not carry with them much of faith, or hope. I returned quite late that evening and found my companions all in the cabin. Things began to look serious. We took our accustomed coffee and sugar, and soon retired to our bunks to dream of tables loaded with provisions; but some fatality always prevented us from reaching them. I was hungry, and while slowly working my way through the snow to the cabin I looked anxiously for some bird or squirrel that I might kill and eat. The next morning we held a short consultation to determine whether it was better to leave, or to make still further efforts to obtain provisions. In the afternoon of that day I saw a large buck and three does in a clump of brush above me on the mountain side. They were too far away for an effective shot--so I slowly approached them. They saw me and were somewhat disturbed by my presence. They could not go higher on account of the increasing depth of snow. I was lying on the snow with my rifle in position, watching an opportunity for a successful shot. All at once the buck left the clump of brush and came plunging down the mountain side, attempting to pass me some eight rods to my right. If I ever looked through the sights of a rifle with a desperate determination, it was then. I fired when he was nearly opposite me and he plunged headlong into the snow. I had struck him fairly in the heart, and life was immediately extinct. I got to him as soon as I could, after reloading my rifle, and cut out of his ham a piece, which I ate while it was still warm. It had the same effect upon me for a short time as a drink of strong brandy has upon an empty stomach. I cut off the saddle, threw it over my shoulder, and started for camp. It was in the dusk of the evening when I arrived. My partners were there, and when they saw me coming said nothing, but with a fixed gaze, as though to be certain of relief, fairly grabbed the saddle from my shoulders, rushed into the cabin and began to roast and eat. The roasting was not overdone.