There not thirty yards away he stood, the creature he had been stalking so long, in plain view now, broadside on.

They gazed each at the other, perfectly still for a few seconds, then Rolf without undue movement brought the gun to bear, and still the buck stood gazing.

The gun was up, but oh, how disgustingly it wabbled and shook! and the steadier Rolf tried to bold it, the more it trembled, until from that wretched gun the palsy spread all over his body; his breath came tremulously, his legs and arms were shaking, and at last, as the deer moved its head to get a better view and raised its tail, the lad, making an effort at selfcontrol, pulled the trigger.

Bang! and the buck went lightly bounding out of sight.
Poor Rolf; how disgusted he felt; positively sick with self-contempt.
Thirty yards, standing, broadside on, full daylight, a big buck, a clean miss.

Yes, there was the bullet hole in a tree, five feet above the deer's head.