“Why on the other side?” questioned Andy, impatiently.
“Deer always scent a person if he is to the windward.”
“Oh, I see. Well, shall we cross the valley here?”
“No, we will have to go up to the north and make a wide detour behind that bit of woods,” said Jack. “Come on, there is no time to lose. The deer may shift their position at any moment.”
In the excitement of the moment all thoughts of the midday meal were forgotten. And they likewise forgot that they were tired. With such game in view they would have tramped five miles without a murmur.
Harry led the way along the ridge, taking care that they should not expose themselves to the view of the deer below. It was a tedious walk, especially to Andy, who wanted half-a-dozen times to try a shot at long range.
At last they reached the crest of the hill, and began to climb down the other side. This was hard work, for fear of striking an icy surface and going down—no one could tell where.
It was half an hour before they stood in the valley. Here it was warmer, on account of the shelter from the wind.
“Now come on and we’ll get to some spot directly behind the deer,” said Harry. “Then we will spread out in a semi-circle and do our best to bag the lot.”
Without another word, and scarcely daring to breathe, they moved along in the snow, their guns, and the rifle carried by Jack, ready for immediate use.