"About three miles. Let's hustle."
Down the steep slope they went, and at the bottom found themselves in a forest of evergreens. The air was crisp and invigorating and the fragrant odor of the pines delightful.
The ground was again rising gently. A few paces further, Bob Somers suddenly seized Hackett by the arm. "Gracious alive—a deer," he whispered. "Don't make a sound."
"Where?" asked his companion, eagerly.
"Straight ahead," said Bob.
They had reached the top of a slight elevation. Below, with its back turned toward them, was a deer browsing upon cedar boughs.
"Sure enough! If this isn't the greatest piece of luck I ever heard of; and the wind is blowing in the right direction, too." Hackett's voice trembled with excitement. "Mind your eye, Somers," he continued, "and we'll get it. Let's circle around, and—" he paused, for the deer swung its head to one side, and both boys expected to see it dash off on the instant.
But, to their intense relief, the animal continued browsing, and, with the utmost caution, they moved along, eagerly peering between the masses of underbrush.
"It's still there," said Hackett, in scarcely audible tones. "A minute more, and I'm going to take a chance."
"Don't utter even a whisper," interrupted Bob, warningly.