"Don't you see that it seems to be getting stronger all the while," he explained to Lil Artha, who was close at his heels, holding his breath with eagerness as he tried to look ahead so as to glimpse the welcome sight of the deer fallen at last through sheer exhaustion, "and take my word for it, we're pretty sure to get your game before we go back to camp."
"Well, that would tickle me more'n I could tell you, Elmer," the other assured him, with visions of glorious feasts rising up before his mind.
"And there he is!" added the other, quickly, "just at the foot of that fir tree!"
They made a spurt, and were soon bending over the deer, which they found quite dead, though life had evidently just departed. Lil Artha could hardly contain himself. He insisted on shaking hands several times with Elmer, and then did the same thing with himself, bubbling over with delight.
"Oh! tell me I'm not dreaming, Elmer, and that I have really and truly shot a fine deer, just when we needed it the worst kind?"
"There's no mistake about it, old fellow, because here's your deer as plain as anything," Elmer assured him, not a little pleased himself at the great success that had accompanied their hunt.
"Think how the other fellows will yell when they see it!" Lil Artha continued, "and Toby needn't be afraid he's going to starve yet a while, need he?"
"I should think not," the scout master admitted; "when there's all this fresh venison to be cooked. The country is saved, Lil Artha, and you're the lucky one to be our George Washington. The boys will be wanting to kneel down and kiss the back of your hand."
"If they try any of that softy business they'll take a back seat in a hurry, let me tell you," was what the matter-of-fact scout remarked. "But, Elmer, ain't it queer that somehow the snow woods don't look quite so dreary to me now? Fact is, I kind of think this is as pretty a sight as I've seen for a long time."
Elmer laughed at hearing that.