“Here it turns into this blind path,” continued Jud, “which I’d like to wager ends before long in a big drift. Like as not if we chose to follow, we’d find Mr. Stag wallowing in the deepest kind of snow, and making an easy mark.”
“Well, we can’t turn aside just now, to hunt a poor deer that is having a hard enough time of it keeping life in his body,” said Tom Betts, aggressively.
“No, we’ll let the poor beast have his chance to get away,” said the scout-master. “We’ve started out on a definite errand, and mustn’t allow ourselves to be drawn aside. So put your best foot forward again, Jud.”
Jud looked a little loth to give up the chance to get the deer, a thing he had really set his mind on. However, there would still be plenty of time to accomplish this, and equal Bobolink’s feat, whereby the other had been able to procure fresh venison for the camp. 183
“How far along do you think we are, Tolly Tip?” asked Tom Betts, after more time had passed, and they began to feel the result of their struggle.
“More’n half way there, I’d be sayin’,” the other replied. “Though it do same as if the drifts might be gittin’ heavier the closer we draw to the hill. Av ye fale tired mebbe we’d better rist up a bit.”
“What, me tired!” exclaimed Tom, disdainfully, at the same time putting new life in his movements. “Why, I’ve hardly begun to get started so far. Huh! I’m good for all day at this sort of work, I’m so fond of ploughing through the snow.”
The forest seemed very solemn and silent. Doubtless nearly all of the little woods folk found themselves buried under the heavy fall of snow, and it would take time for them to tunnel out.
“Listen to the crows cawing as they fly overhead,” said Jud, presently.
“They’re gathering in a big flock over there somewhere,” remarked Paul.