<TITLE>10. Par 29-31</TITLE>L-29 And one year when I went up he'd made hisself a little whistle. And he could make that little whistle go just like a little baby fawn crying. I said, "Surely, you're not going to use that."
"Oh," he said, "there you are. You're chicken hearted, boy." We went hunting that day and come a little snow, as you brethren who raised your hands the other night, you were deer hunters, just tracking snow, about six inches. And we went all day; deer was scarce down in the country, and so we hadn't even found a track. Hunting season comes in; deers hide. And it was late in the season, almost the end. And I'd come up late to see if I could find a big roaming buck somewhere or to get into the woods. And we'd hunted all till noontime, never seen a track. Then we hit a little opening about the size of this auditorium, and I noticed him just scoot down. And I thought he was going back into his coat to get his lunch. Usually, that's the way we would do. We'd carry our lunch; noontime we'd eat, then separate and hunt back towards the camp at night, going a different way, through in every se--other sections and so forth, maybe to spook the deer one to the other.

L-30 And when he set down, I thought he was reaching back for his lunch, but he was getting out of his pocket this little whistle. And I thought, "Surely, he won't blow that." But he put it up to his mouth, and he let out a blow, sound just like a little baby crying. And just across the opening a great big beautiful doe raised up, oh, so pretty, great big ears, the veins in her face and the big black eyes. She was graceful looking. Now, a doe is a mother deer. She raised up; she'd been hid under some brush. And he looked back to me with them sheepish looking eyes. I thought, "Surely, Burt, you won't do that." And he blew it again. And she stepped right out into the opening.
Now, you brethren know that that's unusual for a deer, come out in a opening like that in the middle of the day, hunting season, snow on the ground. She stepped right out. What was it? She was a mother; she had something genuine. A baby was crying, and by nature she was a mother. She come out in the opening.

L-31 I seen him pull the lever up on this rifle, that .30-06, and throw this hundred and eighty grain soft point bullet in there. And he was a dead shot. That scope went down, them cross hairs across her loyal heart. I thought, "Oh, God, he will blow her precious heart plumb through her," standing not twenty yards away. When the lever went down, the deer turned. It knowed the hunter was there. But her baby was in trouble. She wasn't just putting on; she was a real mother. She had something real. She wasn't a hypocrite; she was real. And she walked farther out. And I seen Burt as he leveled down to blow her heart out. I turned my back; I said, "I can't watch this. How can he blow the heart of that precious mother hunting for her baby? How could he blow her heart out?" I thought, "O God, don't let him do it."
I turned my back, listening any moment for the roar of that rifle; but it didn't fire. I turned to look, and the rifle barrel was going like this. I looked at him; he threw the rifle on the ground; he grabbed me by the pants leg and he said, "Billy, I've had enough of it." He said, "Lead me to that Jesus that can produce love." What was it? He saw real love displayed. He saw something real. And there on that snow bank, I led him to the Lord Jesus, because he'd found something real. That mother, she wasn't putting on as a church member; she was real.


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