He looked down at the two rabbits he held.
“Not much for an afternoon’s work,” he smiled. “But they’ll have to do.”
The sun was beginning to sink quite low, and Rob thought to himself that he would have to be getting back. He was turning with this object in view when a sudden sound behind him attracted his attention, and a big liver-and-white pointer ran through the clearing. Its nose was on the ground and it paid no attention to him.
“Somebody else hunting round here,” thought Rob. “Queer, though, I’ve heard no other shots.”
A moment later he plunged into the brush, striking out toward the southwest. As he entered the tangle, and, bending low, began pushing his way through it with his broad, young shoulders, something happened.
A flash of fire, so close that it almost singed his hair, followed by a deafening report, and the whistle and spatter of shot among the leaves, brought him to halt with a gasp at his narrow escape.
Some one had fired a shotgun almost in his ear. A fraction of an inch and he would have been badly wounded, if not killed. As he stood there, angry at the unknown hunter’s carelessness and palpitating with the sudden shock, there came a great crashing in the brush. Somebody was evidently making off at top speed. Perhaps it was the man who had caused the accident.
“Hi!” shouted Rob, finding his voice at last. “Hi! come back there, you! You pretty nearly shot me.”
But the crashing kept on. Evidently whoever had fired the shot was in hot haste to escape.
“That’s a fine way to sneak out of a careless accident,” exclaimed Rob indignantly, hurling his voice after the unknown.