By 10 I was headed back to the truck when I ran into the friend who we shared camp with. He was headed back to pick up his trailer that had blown a hub on the way up Fri. We compared notes on what he had seen, and told him I would help him get his trailer onto another trailer to take back down the mountain. He took off as I put my stuff away. As i headed up the road I continually looked for deer. When I rounded a bend I saw what I thought to be a deer a few hundred yards up the hill. I quicly grabbed my binocs and confirmed it to be a buck. I had nothing to loose, so i grabbed my stuff and headed after him. I closed the gap to 60 yards relatively easy. The buck, a nice 2 point, was feeding towards the left. I waite dfor what seemed an eternity for him to get to some cover, it was more like 10 minutes. When he finally entered a patch of pines, I decided to make my move. I skirted the hill side to cut underneath him and to keep him from seeing me. Suddenly the wing switched to the back of my neck. I slowly crept around some pines with an arrow nocked, fully expecting to see the white patch of a mulie buck bouncing away. But there he was 25 yards away and broadside. I drew, all the while hearing my son's advise,reached full draw, picked a spot and released. The buck jumped at the sound of the string, and the arrow struck far back. My heart again sank, until the buck jumped back, and it looked like someone had spilled a glass ofruit punch. He raced off down the hill for about 5 seconds, then a crash, followed by more crashing. I knew I had hit the femoral, an extremely lethal hit, but not one I was going for. But as all bowhunters know, things rarely play out perfectly.