JUD JARVIS attained the eighteenth anniversary of his birth last November, and found it the most memorable day of his life.

He had been hunting in the woods along the upper Kanama river, had eaten his lunch, and now, finding himself a good six miles from home, began working his way back, hoping to gain a second shot at the stag that had dashed off at such speed that the youthful hunter was quickly left behind. Although deer were once plentiful in that section, they were now so scarce that it was quite an exploit for the best marksman to bring one down. Jud took his dog along, but just before starting the game, he scurried off on a false scent, and had not been heard or seen since.

The weather was unusually mild for the season, and Jud stood on the margin of the swift Kanama that was free from ice, debating whether he should cross in the dugout at his feet, in the hope of finding the game on the other shore, or whether he should turn about and search for the animal on the same side of the stream.

“He ran straight for the water, and most likely swam across; I think he was hit hard and will not go far, but it is so late that I may not come up with him before dark—helloa!”

A crashing of the undergrowth on his left was followed by a bound that carried the stag a dozen feet into the water. Like a diver, he sank out of sight, even his spreading antlers disappearing from view, but almost instantly the noble head came up over a rod away, the wealth of prongs spreading above the wet snout like the disjointed rigging of a ship. He swam with such powerful strokes that a deep wave opened out behind him. He was fully fifty feet from shore, before Jud rallied from his amazement.

“I’ve got you this time, my fine fellow,” he muttered, bringing his gun to his shoulder.

In the flurry of the moment, he did not recognize the meaning of a humming shriek which accompanied the report of his weapon. But the cartridge driven from his breech-loader was a defective one. There was a depression in one side of the lead which caused it to give out a quick, intense noise like that of a common nail when thrown in the peculiar manner known to all boys. Not only that, but the defect in the missile caused it to deflect just enough to make a clean miss.

Quite sure, though, that he had inflicted a mortal hurt, Jud was afraid the stag would reach land and get too far away to be overtaken before night. He shoved the dugout into the water, threw his gun in, followed it himself, caught up the paddle and worked with might and main to overtake the game.

Swiftly as a stag can swim, he is no match for a man in a dugout. Jud gained fast, and, before the middle of the stream was reached, he was abreast of the deer, but a dozen yards or so above. He curved down toward him, and had passed half the intervening distance, when the fugitive wheeled about, or headed toward the shore he had left a few minutes before.

His protruding eyes, and the whiffing snort which sent a fine spray from his nostrils, proved that he saw his peril and was desperately swimming away from it.

Now was the time for another shot. Jud hastily pulled the lever to throw out the old shell and push a new cartridge into place; but every one knows the “obduracy of inanimate things” at such times. Something got out of order, and, with an impatient exclamation, he lowered his piece to adjust it.

Before he could do so, the angry snort that he had heard before sounded so close at his elbow that he looked around. That which he saw was startling indeed. The stag was plowing like a steam-tug through the water and coming straight for the boat. His fierce front left no doubt of his earnestness, and Jud Jarvis awoke to the fact that while he was hunting the stag, the stag had turned about to hunt him.

The movement was so unexpected that the usually clear-headed youth was thrown into a panic. His gun could not be fired until the hitch was removed, and believing he had no time to do that, he plunged overboard.

In that trying moment, Jud could not forget the valuable rifle in his hand. He meant to hold fast to that, come what might. He was a strong swimmer, and he went down until one foot touched the pebbly bottom. Immediately he gave a light spring, which sent him upward like a cork. Flirting the water from his eyes he looked about him.

The dugout almost touched his nose, so that for the moment he saw nothing of the stag. If the latter had struck the craft with his antlers he had failed to overturn it.

“I may as well make some use of you,” reflected Jud, catching hold of the gunwale with one hand, and placing his rifle within; “I think the gun will be as safe there as anywhere.”

He swam to the stern with the intention of climbing into the rude craft, when the stag came into view. He was moving around the boat, intently looking for the youth that had dared to shoot at him. With a sagacity hardly to be expected, he discerned the guilty from the innocent, and, instead of making a blind assault upon the dugout, he waited for the hunter to reappear. When he did so, he gave him his undivided attention.

Jud’s panic was gone. His hands were free and he was afraid of no animal in the water. The current was cold, for the autumn was well along, but he cared nothing for that. He “trod water” until the bouquet of prongs was almost upon him. He did not fear them, for, as is well known, the most effectual weapons of the deer species at certain times are his fore feet. Rearing on his hind legs, he brings his forward hoofs close together, the fronts turned down so that they become a couple of joined knives, capable of inflicting a frightful gash. The stag of course appeals to his antlers, and they are formidable in the way of defense, but when his sharp hoofs will serve him better, he is quick to use them.

It was these hoofs that Jarvis feared. He was in front of them, and their movement while swimming was such as to gouge his chest if he should be struck. Therefore, at the right moment, he dived under the stag.

Touching bottom as before, Jud opened his eyes and looked toward the sky. The water was of such crystalline clearness that, when paddling along, he could see the pebbly bed, except in the very deepest portion. He had subjected his eyes, however, to a most trying ordeal. The contact of the water with the sensitive organs caused a smarting sensation, and the former assumed a yellow tinge which interfered with his vision.

But he was blessed with unusually strong eyes, and when he looked up he saw the stag over his head. He seemed to be a huge, grotesque creature walking through the translucent atmosphere on his hind legs. His body was almost erect, and the swiftly moving legs churned the water, as if they were beating the air.

The fact that he hardly shifted his position showed that he was holding himself almost stationary until his foe should reappear. He had turned upon his persecutor, and was waiting to destroy him.

The latter now did a clever thing. He came up so noiselessly that the brute did not hear him. He had to blink pretty hard to clear the moisture from his smarting eyes, but when he did so, it was as he expected; he was within six feet of the game, but directly behind him. The dugout was fifty feet down stream.

One long stroke carried Jud across the space. The stag heard the soft swash, and possibly caught sight of the figure stealing upon him, but, before he could turn his head, each hand grasped an antler with iron grip.

“Now, swim, old fellow, but you’ve got to take me along.”

It was the turn of the stag to fall into a panic. He flirted his head and whirled round and round in his effort to dislodge the incubus, but he could not do so. Jud laughed at the discomfiture of the animal.

“You’re doing quite well, but not so well as you think you can do.”

Jud’s expectation was that the stag would tire himself out, and then, finding he could not free himself of his load, would make for shore again. The youth meant to let go as soon as land was reached. No doubt by that time the animal would be glad enough to make off. He would be likely to escape altogether, for he certainly showed no signs of being badly wounded, if indeed he had been hit at all. If he should turn to assail Jud, after the latter let go his horns, he could easily avoid him in the water.

It looked as if Jud’s theory was to be verified, for, after a few blind circlings, the stag, with a disgusted sniff, made for the bank toward which he had headed on entering the river.

Peering through the little forest of antlers in front, the lad noticed that the trees along the shore were sweeping backward with amazing velocity; then he caught a roar, rapidly swelling into a deep boom, and gazing to the left, he saw the dugout bowing, dancing and turning on its own center in a cloud of rising mist. It was on the very point of plunging over the falls.

Jud thought no more of the stag. Unless he could reach shore within a few seconds, he must follow the dugout or be drowned. Releasing the antlers, he dropped to the bottom of the river, impelled to do so by a curious hope that he would thus gain a chance to help himself along.

The depth was nearly as great as in the middle of the stream. He tried to catch hold of the stony bottom, but it glided so swiftly from his grasp that he felt the pain of the friction. The slight reaction sent him upward again, and he struggled fiercely to reach shore. He had about the same distance to travel as the stag, but the latter was a rod further down stream.

The youth strove as only one can who is striving for his life, but he was closer to the falls than he was to land, and he quickly saw that nothing could save him from going over. To struggle longer could only exhaust his strength without giving him any advantage. With great coolness, he turned to the left, so as to face the falls, and braced himself for the ordeal.

“I have never heard whether any one can go over them and live to tell of it, but the question will be settled in the next two minutes.”

The river where it poured over the rocks was compressed into a volume less than a hundred feet in width. The mass of water was ten feet in depth, and the descent was three times as great. The narrowing of the stream gave it great velocity, and the churning of the enormous mass at the base sent up continual clouds of mist, which, when penetrated by the sun’s rays, showed a beautiful rainbow.

At the point where Jud put out in a boat, it was safe to paddle across, but he had been so absorbed in his hunt for the stag, that he forgot all about the falls until it was too late to extricate himself.

Curious thoughts often come to a person when in such extremity. Jud saw the dugout bobbing up and down like the cork of a fishing line, until it vanished from sight. He wondered how many times it would turn over, and whether it was possible for it to keep upright, and in case it was not capsized what would become of his fine rifle? If that were saved, into whose hands would it fall? What did the stag think of the situation, and did he appreciate what zanies he and Jud had made of themselves in their eagerness to destroy each other? How delicately beautiful was the faint rainbow spanning the mist! Would his father and mother understand the means by which he had lost his life? He was their only child, and the pang of sorrow which pierced his heart was because he knew they would never recover from their grief over his loss.

Other singular fancies were crowding upon him, but he was now so close to the falls that they occupied all his thoughts. He saw that the stag was struggling with that blind instinct which all animals show in the extremity of peril. His savage efforts had carried him a little closer to shore, but it availed nothing, and he swept toward the falls broadside on. By some mischance that can hardly be understood, the animal, on the very rim of the overflow, turned on his back, after the manner of a horse when he lies down to roll. The legs were seen for an instant sawing the air, and then hoofs, body, and antlers, were mixed in one general swirl and over they went.

Jud Jarvis was thrilled, as he shot with arrowy swiftness toward the battle of the waters. He uttered the same prayer that he had uttered night and morning since his infancy, and compressing his lips, and drawing a deep inspiration, bravely awaited the issue.

Just then it seemed to him that the vast bulk of water, in which he hung suspended, had become motionless, and the rocky wall below was fighting its way up current with a vicious fury that caused all the turmoil; then the rushing Kanama, accepting the challenge, leaped at the rocks to beat them back. But the lad was borne forward with a dizzying sweep, as if hauled through mid-air, and then he shot downward, into the smothering foam and shivering water, amid a war like that of thousands of cannon.

Through it all Jud never lost consciousness, nor his presence of mind. He held his breath until it seemed his lungs must burst. He knew that the continual hammering of the waters at the base of the falls had worn a cavity of great depth, to the bottom of which he had been carried by the mountainous mass above. But this had to hurry out to make room for that which was forever rushing after it, and he went with it.

He felt faint and strange, and there was one moment when a singular ringing in his ears and a strangling sensation warned him that he was “on the line,” and that one step more meant unconsciousness, to be quickly followed by death. By a mighty effort, however, he rallied, and retained command of himself.

“A man can go over these falls and live to tell of it,” he thought; “and that’s what I am going to do.”

The gasp which he gave brought the cool, life-giving air to his lungs, and the staring eyes saw that though the water was still agitated, the yeasty foam was so small a portion that he could support himself. It was becoming clearer every minute, and the falls were rapidly receding behind him.

After drifting several rods, Jud caught sight of the dugout, almost within reach.

“And it is right side up!” he exclaimed, with delight; “can it be—I shall soon know.”

A few strokes carried him to the hollowed out log, which was not riding so high as when he saw it above the falls. Peeping over the gunwales he observed that it was so nearly full of water that it was floating because of the buoyancy of the log itself. A shout of delight escaped him when he saw his rifle lying in the water at the bottom. By a run of good fortune that could hardly happen again, it was saved to him.

Holding the stern with one hand, Jud began working the boat toward shore. The water rapidly became calmer, and the task was not difficult.

“I wonder how the stag made out,” he said, as the nose of the dugout struck land; “he went over in a style of his own, and I am afraid—Well, if that doesn’t beat everything!”

At that very moment the body of the stag heaved up from the water, and he walked out not more than twenty feet away. As soon as he was clear of the river he stopped, lowered his head, and a sort of earthquake shook his whole system, the drops of water flying in a shower from every part of his body. Having flirted off most of the moisture, he slowly turned halfway round, and surveyed the dripping biped, as if seeking to find out whether he was the young man who was responsible for this wholesale overturning of things.

Meanwhile, Jud was doing his utmost to get his rifle in shape for service. He gave as much attention to the stag as to his weapon, in case the brute charged before the youth was ready, he meant to take to the stream again, for he had already proven that he was safe there.

The cartridges had kept dry in their waterproof chamber, and the slight disarrangement was quickly made right. The barrel was freed from most of the moisture, and the weapon was again ready for service. Jud had missed his two previous shots, but he was confident it could not happen again. The game was now his own.

Possibly the stag could not satisfy himself as to the identity of the youth, for after a prolonged stare he swung back his head and slouched off toward the woods. Jud raised his breech-loader and took careful aim at the head held so proudly aloft. The finger was pressing the trigger, when the rifle was lowered again.

“We’ll call it square; you’ve saved your life; you may go; good-by!”