I was hunting, all alone in what seemed to be a thick wooded area. I was carefully following deer tracks in the snow. They were fresh, as ice had not yet formed in the print, and I was very excited. All of a sudden, there it was, at least an eight pointer. I took aim and fired. He fell, but scrambled up at once and hurried off. I gave him a good half hour start and then followed. In an hour or so, I found him bleeding in a little gully. But now as I looked at him trying so desperately to get up and run away, I became sick to my stomach and ashamed of what I had done. Just then some other hunters came up, praised me for my prize, and made quite a fuss over the buck. I gave the kill to them and left.