In silence, the eager hunters, bending low, circled around.
A moment later, coming in full view of the deer between wide openings in the trees, Hackett raised his rifle, conquered the strange tremor which had seized him, and fired.
It was a thrilling moment. A wreath of bluish smoke slowly drifted upward, then the excited boys saw the animal plunge forward, and sink to its knees.
A hearty shout came from Hackett. "Knew I couldn't miss!" he cried, exultingly, as he dashed ahead.
The deer recovered its feet, and floundered through the snow. But the slim boy rapidly gained on the wounded animal, and, waiting until he was within easy range, fired again.
This time, the doe, struck in a vital part, dropped in her tracks and rolled heavily in the snow.
Hackett rushed forward in the greatest excitement. A cry of triumph came from his lips. The only great achievement of the trip had been his—already, he saw himself looked upon as a mighty hunter by the Kingswood boys.
But as he approached the body of the doe, a plaintive cry attracted his attention, so soft and faint as to almost pass unheard.
"What's that, I wonder?" muttered Hackett, in astonishment.
Looking quickly around, he saw a pair of large, pleading eyes, gazing into his own. Partially hidden by a mass of underbrush stood a young fawn.