Since, as I have explained, large game was exceedingly rare in that section of the country, and since, also, the Piketown Rangers had been unusually favored in scaring up a fine buck on such short notice, it would seem they had no reason to believe there was any probability of encountering any more quadrupeds larger than a rabbit.
All the same, however, each member of the party should have seen to it that his gun was loaded before moving from the scene of the flurry with the buck. Such is the rule among hunters, and you will admit that it is a good one.
Nevertheless, all were trudging down the mountain-side with empty weapons and with never a thought of preparation for meeting any more game.
Had the buck suddenly made his appearance nothing would have remained for them but to take to their heels; but inasmuch as they would have done that if their guns were ready, I don’t see that it made so much difference after all.
A short distance farther the trio reached a tiny stream of icy cold and clear water, which bubbled from the rocks only a short distance away on their left.
Naturally they were athirst again, and, since all their flasks had been exhausted long before, they were driven to the necessity of slaking their thirst with the aqua pura.
This was done in the original fashion with which I am quite sure all my boy readers are familiar. Lying on their faces they touched their lips to the sparkling fluid, and each drank his fill.
“Ahem!” sighed Jim McGovern, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, “that aint so bad when you can’t get anything better.”
“Yes,” assented Bob, “when a fellow is dying with thirst he can make out very well on that stuff, but it’s mighty thin.”
“I would hate to be obliged to stick to it,” added Tom.