"Then fire!"
Bang! bang! went the two shotguns, almost as one piece, and two of the prairie hens fell over while three more began to flutter around wildly. The others lost no time in disappearing into the timber.
"Come, we must get the wounded ones, too!" cried Bob, and started forward. One was caught with ease and its neck wrung. Then a second flew straight up into Bob's face.
"Hi! get out of that!" screamed poor Bob and tried to beat the fowl off. As he did this Mark caught it from behind and quickly dispatched it. Then Bob caught the other fowl and killed that too; and the brief excitement came to an end.
"Five prairie hens," said Mark, surveying the game. "Not so bad for a start."
"One thing, we won't go back skunked," answered his chum, with a grin.
"Oh, we are going to get a good lot more game than this, Bob."
"I trust so. But 'you can't vos alvays somedimes dell,' as the Dutchman said," added the former sailor lad.
With the game slung over their shoulders, they advanced into the timber, finding a trail which seemed to run due westward. They had not gone far before they caught sight of a small deer and both went after it on a run, but it got away from them behind some trees.
"We must go ahead with more caution after this," said Mark. "We are making too much noise."