“I tell you what, boys,” said Mr Rawlings when they had reached the timber they had made for, “we must separate, and each of us try his luck on his own account. I’m sure we’re never likely to come across anything as long as we are all in a body together like this.”
The remark was made just at the right time, for they were in the likeliest spot to harbour deer they had yet tracked over; and if there was any occasion for their exercising caution and skill it was now.
The timber—mostly pine-trees and cottonwood, with low brush growing about their trunks, forming a copse—was on both sides of a small river, which seemed easily fordable, with bright green grass extending from the adjacent prairie down to the water’s edge.
“Right you air, boss,” said Seth, wading into the streamlet without any more ado as he spoke; “my motter’s allers to go forrud, so I reckon I’ll take tother side of this air stream ahead, an’ you ken settle yerselves on this.”
“A very good arrangement,” said Mr Rawlings, not at all displeased at Seth’s putting the river between them.
He and Ernest Wilton might possibly have a chance now of getting near a deer for a shot, which they could not have hoped to do as long as Seth remained along with them.
“But pray take care of the boy,” he continued, as he saw Sailor Bill follow in Seth’s footsteps and wade into the stream, which came up beyond his knees; “the river may be deeper than you think.”
“Never fear,” sang out the ex-mate lustily in response. “Thaar ain’t water enough to float a cockboat; and I’m lookin’ out keerful and feelin’ my way afore I plant a fut, you bet.”
“All right,” answered Mr Rawlings.
And his feelings were soon afterwards relieved by seeing Seth and his protégé reach the other side in safety.