The boys followed a trail through the woods. Their friend, the guide and caretaker of the camps, had told them about it, advising them to follow it, as they might see some game along it. This they were now hoping for, keeping a bright lookout in every direction.
As they tramped along, the sudden rattle of a dried bush on the right of Tom attracted his attention. He looked in time to see a white streak darting along.
“A rabbit!” he cried and fired on the instant.
“Missed!” yelled Bert, as the echoes of the shot died away.
“No, I didn’t!” cried Tom. “You’ll find him behind that stump.”
And, surely enough, when the other boys looked, there was the rabbit neatly bagged. He was needed for food, too, for they had no fresh meat at this camp, and already they were beginning to tire of the canned variety.
Except for the determination to each bring back a deer’s head, and the pelt of a bear, our four boy hunters had made up their minds not to be wanton shots. They wanted to get enough game for food, and the head and skin for relics, after using such of the meat as they needed of the bear and deer.
“Of course we four can’t eat all that meat in the short while we’ll be in the woods,” Tom said, “but we can give it to Sam, so it won’t be wasted.”
Tom and his chums had the right idea of hunting, and had no desire to slaughter for the mere savage joy of killing.