He was not more than half a mile away from the camp at most, since he had considered it good policy to make a half circle, covering as much ground as possible in this, his first tramp.
So far he had seen nothing worth shooting at, though signs of deer had caught his watchful eye numerous times; and he felt sure they used these grounds for feeding purposes, as there were patches of green grass every little while.
And then, all of a sudden, there was a loud rustle of the leaves that sent a thrill through the young hunter. He saw a deer leap over a fallen tree with all the ease in the world, and start to bound away, taking great springs. Instinct rather than anything else caused Tom to throw his rifle to his shoulder; and then he fired, just as the buck turned slightly in order to avoid some obstruction, which Tom had already known would make him veer.
With a crash the deer went down. Throwing another cartridge into the firing chamber of his gun, Tom started full speed toward the spot, ready to finish his quarry, if such a thing proved necessary; for he had known deer to get up again, full of fight, after being thrown to the ground by a shot.
But that first well-placed ball had accomplished its work. The buck was dead by the time Tom reached the spot, pleased with his success, which he looked upon as a splendid sign of future luck.
As the afternoon was well along, and he would have half a mile to "tote" his burden, the boy lost no time in setting to work removing the skin of the animal, and then cutting the deer up, so as to secure the choice portions, including of course the two haunches.
Outside of the hams and perhaps the shoulders there is not a great deal about a deer worth taking; so in due time Tom had packed all he wanted in the hide, which he made up into a compact bundle, and threw over his shoulder.
Thus loaded, and in a happy frame of mind, he started in the direction of camp. Never once during his hour's tramp had Tom been compelled to guess where the dugout lay. The woods were as an open book to him, so accustomed was he to unconsciously noting many little things around him—the moss on the trees; the way the forest monarchs inclined away from the prevailing storms that came from the west in this region, sweeping down the sides of the mountains; with these and many other signs to tell him, a hunter can read locations as easily as you or I might a printed page in a book.
Tom had been moving along a short time in this way when suddenly he stopped to listen. The report of a gun had been borne to his ears, and from the direction of the camp, though the breeze was not favorable for carrying sounds.
"Hello!" he started to remark; when to his surprise a second shot followed the first, and quickly came a third.