“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-pronged 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 passed 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 circumstances, and delighted to see this same brought out by the ill turn fortune had given him.