But in hunting, I used to go up in the north woods to hunt deer, New Hampshire and Maine, and it's the home of the white-tailed deer. And I had a partner up there, I hunted with. And he was a fine hunter. And you didn't have to worry about him; he knows where to go to. I loved to hunt with Bert.
He was the meanest man I ever seen. That man had a heart in him like stone. He was cruel, and he was just simply mean. And he used to like to shoot fawns, that's the little baby deer, just to make me feel bad. He would kill these little fawns, and I'd say, "Bert, aren't you ashamed to do that?"
And he would say, "That's just the way with you preachers, you're too chicken-hearted."
I said, "Bert, that's not chicken-hearted. That's being cruel."
And so one day I went up there to go hunting. It was a little late in the seasonAnd the snow had already come, about six inches, a good tracking snow. And I met Bert, and he said, "Say, Billy, I got something new for you.”
He pulled out of his shirt a little whistle. And it sounded like the little baby deer calling for its mammy.
And I said, "Bert, you don't mean to tell me that you would do that?"
He said, "Oh, get next to yourself, preacher."
So the next day we went hunting, and didn't even see one track. He pulled out this little whistle and he blew this whistle. And when he did, to my surprise, right across that clearing, a great big mother deer stood up. He blowed it again.
And, now, that's unusual for that deer. Her baby was in trouble. She raised up. I watched her, behind this bush. She made two or three steps forward, coming right out into the open. Her baby was in trouble.
Raised up, and that cross hair of that scope come right across her heart. And when he raised his gun, the deer saw the hunter. She turned.
You know, usually that deer would be gone. But not her. Why? She was a mother. Though she knowed it would cost her life, she didn't care. She was a mother.
And I seen the hunter pull his rifle. And I turned my head. I couldn't look at it. I thought, " How can he blow her heart out of her?"
And I started praying. I said, "Heavenly Father, how can that man be so cruel? That precious mother, she can't help that. Though it cost life, her baby is in trouble."
I waited. The gun didn't go off. He looked up to me. His expression was changed. Tears was dropping off his cheeks. He throwed the gun on the ground. He said, "Billy, I've had enough of it. Lead me to that Jesus you're talking about."
There on that snowbank, that afternoon, I led that cruel-hearted man to Jesus Christ. Because he seen something real, something that was genuine.
Oh, this hungering world is looking for something real, something that's not put on, something that's genuine, that's born of God, that comes from the Bible. Would you like to have that type of salvation that death or nothing else, and just the love of God in your heart, like she had the love of her baby?
Now the only way it can be. You can't do it by joining a church. You can't do it by putting your name on a book. It's got to be real. It's got to be genuine. It's. got to be a birth. It's got to change you, from just a make-belief, to a genuine Christian.

William Branham, sermon «A Greater Than Solomon Is Here»
https://en.branham.ru/sermons/63-0628E