When his angry four-footed foe made a vicious leap forward and upward, as if bent upon sending the swinging gun a dozen yards away, the boy's heart seemed to be almost in his mouth with the suspense; but as the old saying has it, "a miss is as good as a mile," and the buck failed to strike the object of his sudden new animosity, though coming perilously near it.
When his eager fingers clutched the precious Marlin, Felix felt like giving vent to a shout of joy. He knew now that the game lay safely in his hands; and had the old buck been as wise as he was savage, he would have lost not a second in trotting away from that dangerous vicinity; but unaware of his new peril he only started a new series of furious jumps in the air, in the futile endeavor to strike the dangling legs of his tantalizing human foe.
At another time Felix might have allowed himself to feel a little compunction about taking the life of such a valiant old fellow; but his sides still ached from the rough experience he had passed through, and it was absolutely necessary that he clear the way to his descent from that tree.
So he quietly waited until he had a chance to get in a death shot, and glancing along the matted top of his rifle barrel, he pulled the trigger.
Then the report sounded, the gallant buck went over in a heap; there was no wild leap into the air as so frequently happens when a deer receives its fatal hurt; but the buck just seemed to crumple up, and drop dejectedly in his tracks, as if to prove that he had kept up the fight to the bitter end.
Then Felix came down from the tree that he had never climbed; which queer feat few people could duplicate, in even a varied experience.
He already knew that, as night was now at hand, he would have to make camp there in the wilderness; so that at least it was some consolation to know that he need not starve, with all that fresh meat ready at his hand; since he had in the buck, tough eating though he might prove, sufficient food for any length of time.
Felix immediately set about making ready for the night, after bleeding the dead deer—fuel was hastily gathered, and a rude temporary shelter erected, after the way he had seen it done by Adirondack guides, and called a "lean-to." This was fashioned out of boughs that he found handy, and which would at least keep off most of the cold, penetrating north wind, as well as snow, should this last fall during the night.
In front of this shelter he built his fire; and once its cheery presence came to bolster up his courage, Felix felt no anxiety concerning his experience.
In the words of the immortal wandering Indian, he could say when rescued: "Injun no lost—wigwam lost—Injun here!" for he felt that it would prove an easy task on the morrow to take the back trail, loaded with the spoils of the chase, and by noon no doubt, bring up close to the camp under the big tree.