"Steady, Steve! Think of the deer, not of the gold-mine."
"I'll aim at him as if he were a gold-mine," replied Steve, as he raised his rifle.
"I'll try for one of the does at the same time," said Murray.
Crack! crack! Both rifles were discharged almost at the same instant; but while the antlered buck gave a great bound and then fell motionless upon the grass, his two pretty companions sprung away unhurt.
"I aimed too high," said Murray; "I must lower my sights a little."
"I've got him," exclaimed Steve—"gold-mine and all; but he'll be a big load to carry to camp."
They found him so. They were compelled to take more than one breathing-spell before they reached the head of the ravine, and there they took a long one—right on the gold-bearing ledge.
"Splendid pair of horns he has—" began Murray, but Steve interrupted him with,
"That's it! That's the name of this mine when I come for it!"
"What's that, Steve?"