He swore that he saw her more than once, but she was still illusive. He thought she was almost toying with him, though that was impossible. Deer simply did not operate like that. He finally realized that he had reached the end of his strength, and that she had outlasted him. He had to sleep. The sun was setting and the moon rising, as he crossed a meadow and a stream. Once he brought his gun to bare and cocked it, but then she was gone again. Finally he reached the base of a mountain.

He stared up at the mountain, with a sinking heart. He did not dare try to climb it in the dark and with a lack of sleep. He could almost feel the deer staring at him front up the mountain, taunting him. It took a half hour to set up a round lean-to and start a small fire. He cooked a rabbit over the fire, ready to relish the taste of it. His pursuit would have to continue in the morning.

After a full dinner, he put out the fire, and lay under his rough shelter. Soon he was sleeping lightly, ever aware of the forest around him. His gun lay to hand, ready for defense if a bear or an Indian approached. In the morning he would climb the mountain to look for signs of the white doe. He was exhausted by the twenty four hours he had spent in constant hunting.