Free Comanche by J. T. Edson

surprise it seemed that the chief failed to locate the deer. Instinctively the boy prepared to draw Long Walker’s attention to the animal, then realised that a word or sudden movement would startle it and drive it into flight.
    Slowly inch, by inch, the boy raised his hand to touch Long Walker’s sleeve and in the same cautious manner indicated the deer’s position. At the same moment the buck rose, not frightened but sensing danger and looking for it.
    Having already seen the buck, but waiting to study Loncey’s reactions on locating it, Long Walker was ready. In a single fluid motion he raised the bow, drew back its string of plaited grizzly-bear sinews and sighted the arrow. Once sure of his aim, he released the string. Out flickered the arrow, made from a young shoot of the flowering dogwood tree, so highly prized for its straight growth and lack of knots, with triple turkey feather flights. Being used for hunting, the razor-sharp steel arrow head bore no barb and was set, on the same plane as the bow string so as to pass between an animal’s ribs—the war arrow always carried a barbed head set at right angles to the string as it would be launched at a target which stood erect upon two feet.
    Faster than the eye could follow, the arrow sped towards the buck. Up to twenty yards, Long Walker reckoned to hit an object the size of an apple four times out of five; and the buck stood broadside on within that distance. Even as the buck sensed its danger, the arrow sliced between its ribs and into its chest cavity. Unlike a bullet, which killed by shock and tissue damage, an arrow brought death by bleeding. So, although struck hard, the buck did not go down. On the impact it bounded high, landed on feet already running and crashed away through the bushes.
    ‘We’ve lost it!’ Loncey said, a touch bitterly.
    ‘Perhaps, perhaps not,’ Long Walker replied. ‘Let us take a look.’
    Darting forward, the boy plunged into the bushes. His eyes scoured the ground so as not to overlook any sign that might help him find the wounded buck. Standing back, Long Walker looked on and followed only when Loncey found the marks left by the buck landing from its first leap then dashing away.
    ‘Look!’ the boy ejaculated, pointing to the ground. ‘Blood!’
    ‘The wound is a bad one,’ Long Walker answered. ‘We should find the buck soon, so move carefully.’
    Later there would be time to go into details of what might be learned from a blood trail. A man who knew the signs could tell the nature of the wound by the colour and amount of blood spilled and Loncey would have need of that knowledge.
    Despite the serious nature of its wound, the buck ran for well over half a mile. In doing so it left the wooded area and lay halfway up an open slope. Clearly it had just realised the cover-less nature of the slope and started to turn back to the shelter of the trees when it went down, for it lay facing the woods.
    On coming into sight of their quarry, Loncey let out a whoop of delight. Before his grandfather could speak, he whipped the Green River knife from its sheath and went bounding up the slope towards the buck. Knowing something his inexperienced grandson overlooked, Long Walker halted his hand as it reached for another arrow and he followed Loncey as fast as his legs would carry him.
    When the boy came near it, the buck suddenly let out an enraged snort and lurched upwards to launch a savage hook with its antlers at his body. At that moment the skill and agility developed in childhood games like ‘Grizzly Bear’ came in mighty useful and saved him from being disembowelled. Skidding to a halt, he threw himself desperately aside, twisting his lean young frame with the speed of an otter-hunted eel. Even so, fast though he moved, the antlers brushed against his arm in passing. Off balance, Loncey went sprawling to the ground and he saw the buck start to swing in his direction.
    Knowing there would be no time to draw and use another