Jack stepped out of the bushes into the hollow, and beckoned.
"I've sighted a couple of deer that I'm trying to get a shot at; if you go over the hill, you'll scare 'em."
The stranger—a slender youth in soiled shirt-sleeves, carrying a coat on his arm—looked at him saucily, with his head on one side and a quid turning in the cheek, and said,—
"Well! and why shouldn't I scare 'em?"
"I can't hinder you, of course; but," said Jack, "if you were hunting, and I should be passing by, I should think it a matter of honor—"
"Honor is an egg that don't hatch in this country," interrupted the stranger; and the quid went into the other cheek, while the head went over on the other side, as if to balance it. "But never mind; 'tain't my cut to interfere with another feller's luck. Show me your deer."
Jack took him through the thickets to his ambush. There were the deer still feeding; the old one lifting her head occasionally as if on the lookout for danger. They seemed to be moving slowly along the slope.
The dark eyes of the strange youth kindled; then he said, with a low laugh,—
"I'd like a cut-bore rifle for them fellers! You never can get 'em with that popgun."
"I believe I can if you'll help me. You notice there's a range of hills between us and them; and they are on the north slope of one. I've been surveying a little of the country off south, and I think you can get around the range that way, and come out beyond the deer, before they see you. There's everything in our favor. The wind blows to us from them. At the first alarm they'll start for the woods; and they'll be pretty sure to keep along in the hollow. I'll watch here, and take them as they come in."