His young friend blushed with shame. “I–I didn’t think. I ran over to look at the doe, and the critter jumped at me outer the tree. Then I got on the log and he follered me—”
“Jonas Harding’s boy’d oughter known better than that,” declared the old ranger, with some vexation.
“I know it, ’Siah. Poor father told me ’nough times never to move outer my tracks till I had loaded again. An’ I reckon this’ll be a lesson for me. I–I ain’t got over it yet.”
“Wal,” said Bolderwood, “while you git yer breath, Nuck, I’ll flay that critter and hang her up. I’m in somethin’ of a hurry this mornin’; but as the widder’s needin’ the meat, we won’t leave the carcass to the varmints.”
“You’ve been to my house, ’Siah?” cried Enoch, following him across the little glade.
“Yes. Jest stopped there on my way down from Manchester. That’s how I knew you was over here hunting.”
“But if you’re in a hurry, leave me to do that,” said the boy. “I’m all right now.”
“You’re in as big a hurry as I be, Nuck,” returned the ranger, with a grim smile. “I’m going to take you with me over to Mr. James Breckenridge’s. Ev’ry gun we kin git may count to-day, lad.”
“Did mother say I could go, ’Siah?” cried the youngster, with undoubted satisfaction in his voice. “You’re the best man that I know to get her to say ‘yes’!”
Bolderwood looked up from his work with much gravity. “This ain’t no funnin’ we’re goin’ on, Nuck. It’s serious business. You kin shoot straight, an’ that’s why I begged for ye. This may be the most turrible day you ever seen, my lad, for the day on which a man or boy sees bloodshed for the fust time, is a mem’ry that he takes with him to the grave.”