"I won't."
The horses settled to their work as if they understood what was expected of them. They leaped cypress knees, fallen trees, and tore through the forest at a perilous pace, but they were making more noise than either of the boys realized. So much noise did they make that horseman some distance ahead of them heard them plainly.
Tad suddenly pulled his horse down to a walk. Ahead of him, sitting his saddle easily, was a tall, bearded man. The latter's horse was white, with pink nostrils, something like Tad Butler's mount. The rider was raw-boned and armed with rifle and bush-knife, besides a revolver that protruded from his belt. But there was no deer on the horse, nor any trace of a deer.
"Howdy, stranger," greeted the man.
"Good afternoon," answered Tad, eyeing the man narrowly. "Have you seen anything of a man carrying a deer?"
"A deer?"
"Yes, sir."
"I reckon I saw a fellow with a buck some twenty minutes back."
"Where?"
"Oh, he went on past here."