It was not long before he found himself in the densest kind of timber. In fact, he had not seen anything like it since coming to the hemlock camp.
Here and there were little openings, in some of which green grass grew. It was here the trapper had told him he might possibly find a deer feeding; and as he made his way along, Jerry kept on the lookout for signs.
He had been walking much over an hour when he thought he caught a glimpse of a deer ahead; there was something moving there, at least, and with his pulses quickened the boy began to slowly and cautiously advance.
Yes, it was a deer, and feeding, too!
The light was none too good under the trees, with that dark threatening sky over all; but Jerry had keen eyes and he was just now excited at the prospect of at least getting a shot.
He kept on advancing, taking advantage of every bit of cover that offered. To his delight the animal did not seem to pay any attention to him, though raising its head several times to sniff the air suspiciously.
By this time, he had gained a position where he believed he could make the buckshot in his gun tell, and with as steady a hand as he could bring to bear, Jerry took aim at the exposed side of the deer.
When he fired the animal fell in its tracks, and, giving a shout, the exultant young hunter was about rushing forward to secure his quarry when suddenly his horrified eyes discovered moving figures rushing through the undergrowth, and heading toward the spot where the deer lay, still struggling feebly.
Instantly he remembered what the trapper had said. These then were the wild dogs. Evidently they were hungry, and at the time he shot had been trying to creep up on the animal which they yearned to make a meal from.
Jerry mechanically threw out the empty shell, and pushed another into the chamber of his gun. He saw the pack bolt forward, heard the wild clamor that marked their advance, and then caught the exultant strain in their noisy yelpings, as they pounced upon the slain deer.