They watched with considerable curiosity the approach of the stranger, who walked between Brad and Dick and was talking in a high-pitched, excited voice.
He was small and undersized, with stooping shoulders and a rather insignificant face. He was dressed from head to foot in khaki, which was very palpably brand new and made him ludicrously resemble one of the wooden dummies which tailors use to show off their goods.
Apparently he had gone into a sporting-goods establishment and purchased everything the clerk offered, even to a revolver which hung in a leather holster at one side of the broad belt, and a large hunting knife stuck into the other. In one gloved hand he held a double-barrel, sixteen-gauge shotgun which he clasped by the end of the barrel, letting the stock drag through the leaves behind him.
“Grathious thakes!” he lisped excitedly, as he came up to the path. “I was never tho dithurbed in all my life. I give you my word I thought ith wath a deer, or I thould never have fired in thith world.”
Brad looked at him contemptuously.
“I should think any fool would know the difference between a deer and five men!” he snapped. “Besides, there aren’t any deer around here; and if there were, how in thunder did you expect to hit one with that gun?”
The stranger’s eyes widened with surprise.
“You don’t thay tho!” he exclaimed in a distressed tone. “Why, I thought there were deer all over.”
“Did you expect to kill one with a sixteen-gauge shotgun?” Dick asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
The hunter looked puzzled.