“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 entitled 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 shore 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.