“I’m glad of that,” remarked Tubby, getting up slowly, “I could almost feel those antlers investigating my anatomy. Let’s see how far he’s run.”
The two boys made for the entrance of the ravine. Gaining it they had a good view up and down the beach in either direction. On a distant projection of rock stood the buck. He was looking back. As he saw the boys he wheeled abruptly and dashed into the forest.
“Too bad,” said Tubby shaking his head with a serious air.
“What’s too bad?” asked Merritt, struck by the other’s pensive air.
“Why, if he’d stood still a little longer and we’d had a gun we might have shot him,” rejoined Tubby with a perfectly serious face.
They turned, and as they did so a shout burst from the lips of both.
Bobbing about serenely on the placid water, not half a mile in the other direction, was the red canoe.
“I’ll bet the others are ashore right there, too,” cried Tubby.
As he spoke the stout boy dashed off at surprising speed for one of his build. It was all Merritt could do to keep up with him.
It was as Tubby had suspected. The blue and the green canoes lay on the beach, their bows just resting on the sand. The paddles were in them and it was an easy task to embark and capture the red craft. This was made fast to the one Tubby paddled and the boys, congratulating each other warmly, set out for the camp. As they glided along Tubby uplifted his voice.