“‘Crack, crack, crack!’ went the three rifles, and our victim fell to his knees. He struggled to his feet and started to run up the hill. We could see that he was wounded badly. How our souls rejoiced and exalted. Some one’s bullet had gone tearing through his little body and his life’s blood was flowing away. Again our guns cracked and belched forth the death dealing lead, and the animal fell to the earth without a cry or appeal for mercy. Did instinct, or reason, teach the poor creature that it need not appeal to man for mercy? “We all rushed down the hollow to where our victim lay. There was no more mercy in our hearts than there is charity in the heart of a rattle snake. The deer had tried to get up again and was on its knees when we came upon it. I was in the lead. As I approached, the dying animal turned its hopeless eyes full upon me, and the pain and the fear and the horror, all mingled into one last dying appeal, went straight to my heart. I stopped dead still and allowed the others to pass me. They grabbed the animal by the head with eager, cruel hands and turned it over on its side. I shut my eyes, but I could hear the ugly rasping sound of the knife as it was drawn viciously back and forth across that helpless throat, and heard the life blood gushing out upon the dead leaves. “I felt sick at heart. A wave of regret and remorse swept over me—of guilt and shame and humiliation, and the sweat stood on my forehead like animated grains of corn. I had helped kill the innocent creature for pleasure—for the mere pleasure of killing; for I did not even like the taste of venison. “I was too sick to assist in the job, but the others cut through the abdominal walls and tore out the steaming entrails like savages. Not a thought entered their mind that this poor animal loved life as well as they. They came to kill, and they were exultant over the killing. The life blood went coursing through their veins in a happy, exultant stream, and their hearts beat in tune with the song of their souls. And on the ground the stains of red showed where the innocent blood had seeped into the earth. If the earth is part of God, then God was absorbing the evidence of our guilt. “We shouldered our victim and struggled down the ravine. We tied the animal’s legs together and had a pole between them, and put the ends on our shoulders. I managed to take the lead, so that I need not look upon the body of our slain friend. But with all my care I got blood on my hands and on my clothes! While my companions took delight in displaying the dried blood stains on their hands when we reached home, I felt guilty of mine and washed them several times before I went to bed. “But I couldn’t sleep for many hours after I had gone to bed—not until I made a solemn vow that I would never willingly shed innocent blood again.” THE HARD-LUCK SHOWMAN