He saw something real...

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65. This little story... It might come in just handy right now. I want to say it. You... All you know that I hunt. I--I'm--I love to hunt. My mother's a, that just passed away recently, she was almost a half Indian. And I--I've hunted all my life. First thing I ever bought... I dropped sweet potato plants all day and got a quarter, bought me a steel trap, and caught a rabbit, sold the rabbit for fifteen cents, and bought me two more steel traps: started right off in the business. I was only about six years old. I've been hunting, trapping, ever since. And I go up into the north woods to hunt, used to, up there, and way up.
And I had a good hunting partner up there, and he was a dandy hunter, real good shot; and a man that you didn't have to worry about getting him lost in the woods. He knowed how to get out of there. And I used to love to hunt with him. But he was so cruel-hearted. He--he had eyes like a lizard. You know how them funny looking eyes, like women try to paint theirs today? You know, lizard-eyed like. And so she...
He was a very fine man, but he was cruel. He used to kill fawns just to make me feel bad. He just... He knowed I...

66. Now, it's all right to kill a fawn; that's all right. If the law lets you kill a fawn, my hunter brothers, that's all right. Abraham killed a calf and fed it to God, and God eat it. That's right. So the sex, or the size has nothing to do with it. But just to kill just for the fun of killing, that's a murderer. I don't believe in destroying things. I was seven years a game warden myself, as you know. So now, remember, always be honest and right with those things. And here was a...
He'd shoot these little fawns, and maybe not even pick them up, just to make me feel bad. Just cruel-hearted... And I tried to talk to him about God. And I'd mention God, he'd just stand there and laugh with his head back. So... But way down in him I thought there was something might be good in a man. You don't... Don't never turn a man down altogether. Just try your best, keep on. Let God do the turning down.

67. So I--I... One day I went up there, and it was late in the season. And them white-tailed deer, up there, my. You talk about Houdini being an escape artist, he was a amateur the side of them. And anyhow, when they been shot at, they were just--just vanished. And moonlight night, they'd feed at nighttime, and crawl under brush in the day, get back in the thicket. You never find them.
And there come a nice little snow that night, about six or eight inches, good tracking weather. And we were--took off for hunting. And we'd always carry a thermos bottle full of hot chocolate, where if we got turned around somewhere in the woods, or killed a deer, and had to walk back, or got in a snowstorm, that chocolate would help keep you alive. It's better than coffee or anything, because it's got a--a fuel to it, and a nourishment to chocolate. So I had a... We each one had a quart in our shirt and a sandwich.
And we'd walked all morning, hadn't even seen one track, and we were... Long about eleven-thirty or twelve o'clock, we come to a little opening about the size of this building here. And he--he was ahead of me, walking, and we'd usually go way up into the--above the timber lines, then we'd... He'd split, and we'd go one way and another, and walk down through. And if we got a deer, we'd hang it up. And we'd know when we come back to the base camp... We'd be back there that night, or if we wasn't, we didn't worry about one another. We'd know how to take care in the woods, and we'd be back the next day.

68. So then, I thought he was fixing to leave, 'cause we're getting pretty high up. And the deers usually run up the mountain when they were scared. And so then he stopped at this little place and set down. And I thought he was reaching back in his shirt to get a hold of this thermos bottle to--to eat our lunch; and then we'd separate and go back. So instead of that, he brought out this little old whistle.
He had made a little whistle that sounded just like a little baby deer crying for its mammy. You know how--you know how a fawn goes, that little funny noise. Well, he'd fixed him a whistle, sounded just exactly like that. And I said to him 'fore we left that morning; I said, "Burt, you wouldn't use that?"
He said, "Aw, you're like all the rest of the preachers. You'd never make a hunter. You're too chicken-hearted." Said, "Don't--don't--don't... You're--you preachers are too chicken-hearted to be hunters." And usually I had to get his game anyhow.

69. But--but however, he--he was going to shoot this little deer. So he reached down in his shirt, and he pulled out this whistle. I said, "You wouldn't do that."
He said, "Oh, get next to yourself, Billy. Get next to yourself." There was a snowdrift there, and he blowed this little whistle.
And I thought, well, we hadn't seen a track, wouldn't hurt nothing. But to my surprise, about as far as across this building, a great big, beautiful, whitetail doe stood up. Now, that's the mother deer: doe. Her big ears standing out like that, her big beautiful eyes looking. What was the matter? No matter how good she was hid, a baby, her baby cried. It was in distress. She jumped up. She begin looking around. Now, we wasn't standing over thirty yards from her.
He looked up to me with them lizard eyes, and I thought, "Oh, my." And he blowed it again. And that deer walked right out into that opening. Now, anyone that hunts deer knows that's absolutely unusual. They won't do that, especially when they've been shot at, and that time of day too: about eleven o'clock, twelve. She walked right out in the opening.
And I looked at her, and I begin to think. "That mother, he's deceiving her. He's blowing that whistle like a little baby crying, her baby. And she's not a hypocrite. She's not just acting; she's not putting on something. But she's borned a mother. It's instinct in her. She's a mother, and that's a baby crying. She was a genuine born mother. It was in her."

70. She stepped out there again. He looked at me again like that. I nodded my head like that. He... I reached down. I heard that shell go up in that .30-06, big hundred and eighty grain mushroom bullet, level down at that telescope. I knew in a few moments when he touched that trigger (He was a dead shot.), I knowed he'd blow her loyal heart plumb through her.
And, "How could he do that?" I thought. "A cruel-hearted a man as that would take that mother there, trying to find her baby, out there looking for her baby; and would blow her loyal heart right out of her." I thought, "What a cruel fellow that must be. Surely he won't do it."
And when the--the bolt went down on the model 70, went down like that, the deer heard it, and she turned. And she saw the hunter. But did she move? No, sir. Why? She was a mother. Death or no death, her baby was in trouble. She was trying to find that baby. She was looking everywhere. The baby was calling. She couldn't help that. She was a mother.

71. I--I was almost crying. I just turned my head. I thought, "God, I can't see that. How can he do that, blow the heart of that poor old mother out there, and her standing looking for her baby? A genuine display of loyalty, and how can he do it?" He leveled down like that, that steady nerve. I turned my back. And I said, "Heavenly Father," down in my heart, "don't let him do it. Don't let him do it. How can he do it? How can he shoot the heart of that mother out like that, and her trying to find her baby like that?"
And I waited, and the gun never fired. I waited a little longer; the gun never fired. And I turned around to look. And here's the way the gun barrel was going, just shaking. And he looked up, and the tears running down his cheeks, his lips a quivering. He took the gun and throwed it down on the snow bank, and grabbed me around the trouser leg, and said, "Billy, I've had enough. Lead me to that Jesus you're talking about."
He's a deacon in a Baptist church now. Right there on that snowdrift, I led him to Christ. Why?
He saw something real. He saw something that wasn't put on. He saw there was something genuine. He knowed there was something behind it. She was a mother. She was a born mother.

72. God, make me a Christian like that. Make me to be a Christian, so that I can be so real that people who are looking for something real can see something real, and know that Christ is real. Let us bow our heads.
How many in here... Be honest. Just a minute, will you? Be honest. How many of you would like to be the kind of--as much a Christian, as that deer was a mother? Raise up your hand, say, "It's me, Brother Branham. I--I want to be that kind of Christian." God bless you.

Behold A Greater Than Solomon Is Here - 62-0721 - William Branham