All of the others were equally anxious to proceed, Jerry because he wished to prove his hunting triumphs, and his chums to see the evidence of his valor. Will, no doubt, still hoped to induce the victor to attempt some sort of running stunt in connection with the tree and the dead dogs, that would form the basis of a striking picture.
Going in a bee line, as led by the sagacious trapper, who knew the woods like a book, the little company did not spend more than an hour on the way.
"Thar's yer three oaks, son; now tell us jest whar ye was when ye shot that deer."
As he spoke, Jesse pointed ahead. All of them could easily see the landmark now.
"It was an old tree, and there ought to be broken branches underneath. Yes, if you look over yonder you'll see it. And isn't there something that looks yellow from here?" asked Jerry, proudly.
"Just what! The dog story was founded on solid facts, then!" exclaimed
Frank, hurrying forward, with the others at his heels.
"It was a true tale," chimed in Will, from the rear.
They found the dogs just as Jerry had left them. The big yellow brute lay under the rotten tree, with his head mangled from the discharge of the gun at close quarters; the dingy white one farther off, and presently Jerry led them to where he had dispatched the others.
"And there's my package of vension, all right, hanging up yonder. I was afraid some prowling lynx might get away with it," he remarked, composedly; while his two admiring chums were whacking him on the back admiringly, and insisting on proudly shaking hands with him over and over again.
"Now, to make a clean sweep, come with me and I'll show you where I pulled Andy out from under the fallen tree," he said.