Merriwell’s face assumed a look of consternation.
“I’m very sorry you did that,” he declared.
“Vy? Vot you mean py dot?” Hans gasped.
“The game wardens are likely to hear of it.”
The face of the Dutch boy took on such a sickly look of fright that Merriwell relented.
“But you didn’t think, I suppose?”
“Yaw! Dot vos id.” Hans asserted. “Id shooded me pefore I know mineselluf.”
“Perhaps it will be all right for you to take the head in to show the boys what you have done,” Merriwell suggested.
This was pleasing to Hans, and so in line with his heart’s desire, that he immediately decapitated the doe, and proudly bore the head into the camp, as proof of his skill as a deer-stalker.