Not at all dismayed, after they had refreshed themselves with the lunch brought for that purpose, the young hunters again started out.
The wind had veered somewhat, and with this fresh start they changed their own course, so as to keep it coming toward them. Thad was just as well pleased, for this new direction would serve to keep them within a few miles of camp; and in case they did manage to secure meat, they would not have so far to transport it.
Still the time kept slipping away, and the sun could hardly have been more than two hours above the western horizon when suddenly a buck was started. Every one was so eager to get in a shot, that a regular volley rang out immediately.
There was positively no chance for the poor deer. He went down in a heap, and was so near dead when he reached the ground that he did not even give a last expiring kick.
Of course the boys were delighted, especially when Allan declared their united quarry was a nice young buck, and that his flesh ought by all rights be tender.
Using the greatest dispatch the deer was soon cut up. And when the various packages of meat had been judiciously distributed, the five scouts started on their return to camp.
Thanks to the knowledge of woodcraft possessed by Allan and Thad, they managed to make the camp on a line as straight as an arrow, almost. Indeed, Thad declared that a bee laden with honey, could make no more direct drive for the hive than Allan had in leading them toward the region of the camp.
It was just beginning to get a little dusk when they sighted the crackling fire, and hurrying along, entered camp. Thad looked around. Davy was busy over the fire, and the delightful smell of frying trout told what his occupation must be. Smithy was cutting up some small wood with the camp-hatchet. Both looked up as the hunters came in.
“Where’s Bumpus?” asked Thad, quickly scenting trouble.
Davy and Smithy exchanged glances.