"Right you are," responded the doctor's son.
"How far do you calculate it is?"
"Not more than two miles."
"It may be a little more," said Snap. "But not much."
They plunged into the woods once more, and had hardly proceeded a hundred yards when they heard some partridges drumming. It was a chance for another shot, and they hurried forward with guns ready for use.
"I see them!" cried Snap, and blazed away, and the others followed suit. They were unusually lucky, for five of the birds fell, either dead or fatally wounded. Soon they had the game in their bags.
"There! that is something like!" cried Snap. "They'll make fine eating." And he smacked his lips. He loved partridge meat very much.
They seemed to be getting deeper and deeper into the woods. The trees around them were so dense that it was almost impossible to see the direction of the sun. Several times they came to a halt to look around.
"What do you make of it?" asked Snap.
"I don't like it," answered the doctor's son emphatically. "First thing we know we'll be lost."