“Yes, the two stags went back into the woods.”
“But we can’t kill the cows,” said Rob, decisively.
“Why not? They’re just as good to eat.”
“Maybe better,” said Rob, “I don’t doubt that. A young, fat cow is better meat than an old bull any time, of course. But Uncle Dick said we mustn’t waste anything, and mustn’t kill anything except what had horns in this kind of game.”
“Well,” said Alex, “I don’t much feel like going back to camp without any meat.”
“Nor I. Let’s wait here awhile and maybe the stag’ll come out again.”
This indeed proved to be the case, for in a few minutes the smaller stag did show at the edge of the wood, offering a dim and very uncertain mark at a distance of several hundred yards. Rob began to prepare his rifle.
“It’s too far,” said Alex. “No Injun would think of shooting that far. You might only cripple.”
“Yes,” said Rob, “and I might only miss. But I’d rather do that than shoot at one of the cows. I believe I’ll take a chance anyhow, Alex.”