'Snap doesn't seem to be having any luck with the deer,' Frank remarked after a while.
'No,' replied the other; 'I've not heard his rifle myself, but I reckon he's got a bluff between us and him, and then, like enough, we wouldn't hear with that chatterin' young jay-bird anywheres near.'
As the sun was setting, Snap was seen coming down a long glade towards the camp.
'Don't carry his tail in the air, does he?' remarked Towzer. 'I don't believe he has got a thing.'
'He can't have been out three hours here without getting a shot, I'll lay a wager,' said Wharton.
'He's all right, I can see something hanging on his shoulders,' said Frank.
'So can I now,' added Wharton, 'but it's not venison, it's only fool-hens, I'm thinking.'
'A jolly sight better too,' remarked Towzer, smacking his lips greedily.
'What sport, Snap?' they asked as he came up.
'Well,' replied the hunter, throwing down three big blue grouse by the fire, and leaning on his rifle, 'that's the bag.'