The Boy Scouts in the Maine Woods Part 11

But it was the hand of the giant that grasped the gun, and turned it aside.

"Don't ye try it, Si," roared Old Cale. "We done enuff as 'tis, atakin'

ther game away from 'em, without layin' a hand on ther hides. But ye'd better skip out, as Si sez, younkers. An' say, wile I think o' it, jest tell thet sneak, Jim Hasty, fur me, thet I'm agoin' ter keep my word 'bout them ears o' his'n. I'll larn him what it means ter defy Old Cale Martin."

For the life of him Thad could not help making some sort of reply to this.

"I'll carry your message, just as you say," he went on; "but let me tell you right here and now, you never made a bigger mistake in your life when you call Jim Hasty a sneak or a coward. Would a coward dare come up here, when he knew how you hated him, and had it in for him? I guess not much. Fact is, Jim's got a message for you; somebody's sent him up here!

And he meant to hunt you up, and see you face to face. A coward! Well, I guess not."

And without giving the giant a chance to say another word Thad wheeled, striding away, with the nervous Step Hen at his side, casting many an anxious glance back over his shoulder, as though not quite convinced that the warlike Si might not think it best after all to shoot after them.

But ten minutes later, and the two boys were well away from the spot which had come very near looking upon a tragedy.

"How do you feel about it now?" asked Thad.

"What do you mean?" inquired the other. "I'm as sore as can be about losing my lovely six-p.r.o.nged buck, and knocked over all by myself, too.

Wouldn't I just like to give it to that low-down liar of a Si Kedge, though, for saying that was his bullet, when anybody could see that it came from my rifle? Why, he only pinked the deer in the neck, because I could see the mark. Oh! the thieves, the miserable skunks, to cheat me out of my prize! I'll never, never get over this, Thad!"

"Oh! yes you will, Step Hen," remarked the other, soothingly, for he felt that the bare-faced robbery had been a terrible shock to his companion. "But what I meant when I asked that, was, do you want to head toward camp now; have you had enough hunting for to-day?"

"Now, I know you're saying that, Thad, just to let me down easy,"

declared the other. "I acknowledge that I was beginning to get tired, up to the time I killed that deer; but it's all pa.s.sed away now. The excitement did it for me; and I've got my second wind."

"Then you want to keep on hunting?" asked the scoutmaster, feeling that Step Hen was exhibiting considerable grit under the circ.u.mstances, and delighted to see this same brought out by the ill turn fortune had given him.

"Sure I do," instantly replied the other. "I'm just wild to get another chance to knock over a six-p.r.o.nged buck; and now that I know the ropes, it's easy as falling off a log. Looks like this snow ain't agoing to amount to much, after all; and we've got pretty nearly half a day ahead of us yet. So let's keep on for a while. When I get a little tired, we'll stop to eat our snack of grub, when I can rest up, and be ready for another hour or two. But I'm afraid my luck has turned, and we won't sight another deer this blessed day; do you, Thad?"

"We'll hope to, at any rate," replied the other, as he started off again; "and it's that constant expectation of starting up game that makes hunting all it's cracked up to be. So come along, Step Hen; and if we fail to bring in our share of venison it won't be because we lay down too easy. Now for quiet again, remember, and keep a constant lookout ahead."

CHAPTER XI.

OVERTAKEN BY DARKNESS.

It must have been a long time after the noon hour when Step Hen did as he had promised, called a halt in order that they might eat their lunch, and take a rest.

As the cold was still with them, though the snow had thus far amounted to but little, Step Hen insisted on starting a small fire, at which they could sit, and be comfortable, while they devoured the food provided for the midday meal.

"You make a fire as quick as the next one, Step Hen," admitted Thad, really meaning what he said, and at the same time wishing to raise the drooping spirits of his hunting mate, who was feeling very sore over the loss of his game.

"Oh! I don't pretend to know much about starting a blaze in half a dozen styles, the way Giraffe's got it down pat," observed the other, smiling a little; "but if you pin me down to going at it the easiest way, with matches, and dead pine cones, why I'm there every time. And say, it does feel some handy, don't it, Thad?"

They sat there, and chatted for quite a long time after they had consumed the last morsel of food. And during that resting spell Step Hen picked up many a crumb of useful knowledge concerning the ways of the woods. Thad did not know all that Allan Hollister had learned through practical experience; but he had made the most of his opportunities when belonging to that other troop of scouts; and never forgot what he learned.

"Let's be agoin' on again," remarked Step Hen, finally, scrambling to his feet, and picking up his little rifle with a new eagerness.

"Feel like another spell of it, eh?" asked the patrol leader, following suit.

"That's what I do," replied the other. "Nothing like a rest, and a bite, when you're pretty near played out. I'm feeling fine and dandy again, and ready for several hours' hard tramping. But something just seems to tell me we'll never again have such a chance to get a six-p.r.o.nged buck as that. And to think how it should a been just what the boys were telling me to knock over. I wonder now----"

"What?" asked Thad, as his chum came to a sudden stop.

"P'raps you'll say I'm silly if I tell you; but anyhow, here goes, Thad.

It just struck me all of a sudden that we might go back to where we lost our deer, and do a little trailing on our own account. Them three fellers wouldn't bother trying to hide their tracks, and chances are they've gone into camp to eat some of that venison by this time, if not sooner."

Thad smiled; he could not help it, upon hearing Step Hen talk in this strain; for only too plainly did he remember how white the other had been, and how even his voice trembled when he spoke, while facing those three poachers.

"And after we've managed to track them to their camp, what then?" he demanded.

Step Hen looked wonderfully brave as he instantly replied:

"Why, we might catch 'em off their guard, and hold 'em up. That deer belongs to _me_, and I'd just like to have it the worst kind, especially that head, with the six-p.r.o.nged antlers on it. But if you thought that proposition a little too risky, Thad, why we might conclude to wait around, keeping under cover, till it got plumb dark. Then we could carry off as much of the buck as we could tote, including the head; and them fellers not be any the wiser for it, till it was too late to follow us! How's that?"

Thad nearly had his breath taken away by the boldness of Step Hen's astonishing proposals. He looked at the other, and a smile spread completely across his face. Then he puckered up his lips, and gave a little whistle, that somehow caused Step Hen to turn a bit red in the face.

"Whew!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Thad, "I never before suspected what a fire-eater you could be, Step Hen. Why, nothing fazes you, nowadays. I believe you'd be ready to snap your fingers in the faces of a dozen of the worst rascals that ever hid up here in the piney woods of Maine. But I'm afraid that's too risky a job for me to back up, as the leader of the patrol. I feel the burden of responsibility too much to allow it. What could I say to your father and mother if there was no Step Hen to answer to the roll-call, when we mustered out after this Maine hunt? So, on the whole, Step Hen, much as I hate to disappoint you, I'm afraid I'll have to put a damper on your scheme."

"Oh! all right, Thad," quickly remarked the other, with an evident vein of relief in his voice; "I was only telling you what came into my head.

You see, that's the way with me; I'm always having these brilliant plans, though my own good sense won't let me try to carry them out. So we'll just continue our old hunt; and hope another buck may heave in sight. But if one does, please let fly the same time I shoot, Thad; because we hadn't ought to take any chances of his getting away. You will, won't you, Thad?"

"Why, yes, I think I'm ent.i.tled to a shot by now, Step Hen," replied the other; "seeing that I held back purposely, so as to let you have all the glory of getting that first prize. But as you say, we need venison; and the next time we'll shoot together so's to make sure."

"Good! Then let's be moving, Thad."

Since Step Hen was so set upon doing everything in their power to retrieve the misfortune that had come upon them earlier in the day, by means of which they had lost the first deer, Thad meant to try his level best in order to run across another like prize.

Whenever he saw a piece of ground that looked more than ordinarily promising he would head that way, regardless of distance or direction.

Little Thad cared as to whether they were able to return to camp that night or not. He had spent too many nights in the open, not to feel certain that he could manage to be at least fairly comfortable. And then, too, Thad had the hunter's instinct pretty fully developed, and thought little of fatigue when pursuing his favorite sport.

They kept moving in this way until the afternoon began to be pretty well spent. Thad would not think of offering again to head toward the camp on the sh.o.r.e of the lake, so long as Step Hen made no complaint. He could not afford to be outdone by a tenderfoot, and he the patrol leader at that.

Indeed, the gray of evening had commenced to spread around them when, with no more warning than before, they came upon a second buck that had possibly been lying down in the bushes.

The deer sprang away like lightning, and perhaps it was just as well that Step Hen had asked his companion to shoot with him; for the flitting buck made rather a difficult target to hit in that poor light.

So close together did the two lads fire that the reports blended, though the louder bang of the smooth-bore partly drowned the sharper report of the little repeating rifle.

Thad started to run forward, holding his gun in readiness for a second discharge, if such were needed. Step Hen trailed along after him, working desperately with his pump-gun; and like most excitable greenhorns, trying every which way to work the simple mechanism but the right way, in his eagerness to get the weapon in serviceable condition again.

"Oh! _did_ we get him, Thad?" he cried; for possibly the smoke of the double discharge had interfered with his vision, and he did not know whether the deer had dropped, or sped unharmed out of sight, even before the alert Thad could give him the contents of his second barrel.

"Looks like we'll have venison for supper to-night, anyway," laughed Thad.

And then, Step Hen, looking more closely ahead, saw a slight movement on the ground, which he realized must be the last expiring kick of their quarry.

His spirits arose at once, and he gave a wild whoop of joy.