During the night a heavy snow fell, so very heavy that morning found two feet on the ground, their firewood covered deeply, and the necessity facing them of having to scrape away a great deal of it to make a place for another fire. The need for breakfast was pressing upon them.
It was Buster who went back toward the grove to find more dry wood, breaking it off from dead limbs of bushes and low trees. It was Buster who came running back toward the boys:
“Listen!” he called in a stage whisper. “There are deer up there at the water holes we made! But I believe the holes are frozen over again!”
The boys quickly grabbed their firearms, strapped on their belts of ammunition, and crept hurriedly over the rise to the spot where Buster had seen the animals seeing water.
Near one of the places where they had cut holes in the ice-covered creek they saw three deer licking at the snow.
“Let’s get closer,” breathed Frank, leading the way carefully, stooping low, hoping the wind would not carry to the deer any odor or noise.
They edged up inch by inch along the rise, then dropped over into the brush, through a small end of the grove, seeing the deer standing not more than fifty yards away from them! Two of them lifted their heads and sniffed the air. The third continued sniffing the ground to find water.
Frank slowly raised his rifle to take bead. The other boys also took aim. Just as it seemed everything was ready for the triggers to be pulled, the two deer which had raised their heads wheeled suddenly, as if in fright, snorted, and slid away at a rapid pace into the woods.
Crack! Bang! Crack! Bang!
Two rifles and two shotguns sang out their leaden song of death. The deer that had remained at the waterhole reared itself on its hind legs, tried to turn away, staggered in the air, its forepaws came back to earth with a thud, and the animal fell to the ground!