“Mebby you savvy to-mollow,” replied the Chinaman disgustedly.
The Overland Riders snickered, and even Hippy grinned appreciatively.
“I reckon you are not far from right, Woo. I—” Hippy paused abruptly. Out of that mass of brown something began to grow into his vision, to stand out until everything else appeared to have disappeared.
“You savvy nicee piecee buck?” chuckled the guide.
Hippy reached a cautious hand behind him.
“My rifle. Quick!” he whispered. “Woo is right. There lays a fine big fellow behind that bush over yonder. I don’t know whether he sees us or not. It is a dead sure shot, too. Don’t make a sound,” urged lieutenant Wingate as his rifle was cautiously laid in his outstretched hand.
Placing it across the rock where Woo had laid the stick for him to sight over, Hippy took careful aim a little below the base of the antlers of the buck. His automatic rifle belched forth a deafening roar that went rolling and echoing from peak to peak.
At the same instant, what appeared to be a dull brown and white ball leaped into the air and went bounding away in tremendous leaps. Hippy’s rifle went to his shoulder and he fired again, but the shot only served to hasten the speed of the fine large buck that Woo Smith had discovered. Hippy had missed a “sure shot” as well as a long shot.
“Uncle Hip never misses what he shoots at,” quoted Emma a little maliciously.
“Why don’t you use your pea-shooter?” scoffed Stacy. “Dead Shot Hip made a mess of it that time.”