Dick and Sandy started up and looked where Slade pointed.
Nearly four hundred yards down the river a stag had come down to drink and was standing half in and half out of the water. The canoes were slowly drifting down upon it.
“You fellers want a fresh haunch o’ venison f’r tonight?” queried Malemute.
“You bet!” Dick and Sandy chimed, “but the deer’s seen us and we can’t get close enough for a shot.”
“Reckon I can drop him from here,” Malemute Slade replied cooly.
“What!” Dick exclaimed incredulously.
Malemute’s only reply was slowly to raise his 45.70 lever action rifle to his shoulder. Dick and Sandy watched breathlessly. Motionless as a statue, the big man took aim before his rifle crashed. As the echo of the shot sounded in the silent forest, the stag leaped upward and fell into the river with a soundless splash.
“Now you fellers split your grub with me, an’ I’ll be goin’ on. If I had time I’d paddle down an’ cut a hunk off that deer. But I’ll have to be moochin’.”
Malemute Slade thought nothing of the wonderful exhibition of markmanship he had just made, and Dick and Sandy were awed to silence as they undid their packs and transferred half their food into the scout’s canoe.
Malemute Slade paid them in king’s coin for the provisions.