THE FAWN
Scrambling desperately, John Hackett strove to pull himself beyond the
reach of the wolf.
Bob Somers, standing upon an insecure ledge above, and at imminent
risk of taking a tumble, fired point-blank. The animal, with a howl of
mingled fury and pain, stopped--then went limping away, while Hackett,
with another strenuous effort, managed to gain a position of safety.
"Thanks, Somers, old man," he managed to exclaim. "He came pretty near
giving me a good snip. My eye! We'll attend to those ugly brutes now.
Just look at 'em."
"We were lucky to get up here, eh?"
"Yes, and that concert is going to stop--mighty quick, too."
Hackett slipped a round of cartridges into his rifle, and taking a firm
stand, raised it to his shoulder.
His aim was true. Without a cry, one of the beasts toppled over in a
heap.
"Hurrah! Maybe 'Mushroom' could do better than that!" cried the slim
boy, exultingly. "Watch me again, Somers--wow!" Hackett, in his
eagerness, almost slipped from his position.
"Gracious, Hacky--thought you were going down, sure."
"It was a close call. Fine, to be plumped right in among 'em," and
Hackett gave a perceptible shiver.
Awaiting favorable opportunities, both kept on firing, and with each
report, came yelps of rage and pain. The baffled animals scurried away,
then slowly returned to the base of the cliff, where they trotted
around, looking upward, their glistening teeth and red tongues giving
them a most ferocious aspect.
"Only a few more left, now, Somers. Here goes another," and Hackett
proved his assertion by a skilful shot. The blood-curdling screech that
followed seemed to carry consternation into the hearts of the others.
Hastily falling back, they circled around for a moment, then, dismally
howling, leaped over the snow and disappeared from view behind the
veil of falling flakes.
"My eye! That's great! We have done ourselves proud!" exclaimed
Hackett. "Five of 'em! What will old Yardsley say to this, eh, Somers?"
"That we know how to look out for ourselves. Talk about being stiff and
cold--my position is so cramped--"
"Let's get down, then."
"That's what I'm going to do just as soon as we're sure those beasts
are not coming back."
After a considerable wait, when there was nothing to indicate that
their savage foes were near, Bob Somers eased himself down, and, with
a sigh of relief, stretched his aching limbs. By swinging his arms
vigorously and dancing a jig, the circulation was quickly restored.
Hackett followed his example.
"Gracious, what ugly looking beasts," exclaimed Bob as his eyes rested
on their late besiegers.
"We'll take the tails along, to show the fellows," said Hackett.
"There's a bounty for 'em, too. I knew I could do the trick. Made some
pretty good shots, eh, Somers?" and Hackett smiled complacently.
"Yes, you did," returned Bob, with a faint grin. "But better let's
pitch in, now, and get a pile of wood ready for the night. The wolves
may take it into their heads to come back."
"To think of having to spend hours and hours in this gloomy place,"
grumbled Hackett. "It's fierce luck--nothing to eat, either. Say,
we, too, have an account to settle with the fellows who stole old
Yardsley's furs. I'd like to run across 'em. Wonder if he had any luck?"
"Not likely. The trail was 'most lost when we got separated."
No sign of the remaining wolves being seen, they boldly set to work,
and in spite of their tired condition, kept at it until a great pile
of fuel was gathered. Then the bodies of the dead wolves were tossed
unceremoniously to one side.
The smouldering fire soon quickened into life, and by this time,
darkness had settled over the scene, a pitchy darkness, which the fire
lighted up for a short distance with a fantastic glare.
Conversation lagged. They gazed moodily at the crumbling logs sending
up showers of sparks, at the ever-changing forms, so suggestive to
imaginative minds of hobgoblins and elves, dancing and twisting into
every conceivable shape, but nothing could make them forget their
hunger.
Time wearily dragged on--hours and hours passed--then tired nature
asserted itself.
"No use of two keeping watch, Hacky. Let's take turns on guard, or if
you want to take a nap--"
"I'm not any more tired than you are. I can stand about as much as any
fellow I know of."
"Certainly you can," laughed Bob. "We can settle it by drawing lots. If
I win, you can bet I'll take a nap."
* * * * *
When the daylight began to show itself through a dull sky, patched with
blue, the snow had stopped falling.
A flock of crows passed noisily overhead. Soon the frostwork in the
forest was sparkling like diamonds, as the sun burst through a rift in
the grayish clouds.
Bob jumped to his feet. "Morning, and a fine one, too," he exclaimed.
"You're right, Somers. Are you ready to skip?"
"You bet! Say, but I'm sore and stiff; and I'll starve, too, if I don't
get something to eat pretty soon."
Snow-shoes were strapped on, and after cutting off the wolves' tails, a
start was made.
"Which direction do you think the camp is, Somers?"
"About southeast. We ought not to have much trouble in striking Lake
Wolverine, with the sun to help us."
"Guess you are right. It might be a good idea to climb a tree. I'll do
that on top of the next hill."
Everywhere were evidences of the storm's ravages. Branches and limbs
lay on all sides and occasionally small trees were found lying
prostrate on the snow.
Through a heavily timbered section the boys forced their way, often
confronted by huge snow-drifts.
On reaching the summit of a high hill, Hackett looked about him.
"There's a tree that will do, Somers," he said, pointing to one close
at hand. "When I get my snow-shoes off, give me a boost."
In spite of little food and a very hard night, Hackett had not lost his
agility. From branch to branch he climbed aloft, until a dizzy height
was reached.
"I can see the upper end of the lake, Somers," he called, "but it's a
good way off. We are headed all right, though," he added, beginning to
descend.
"A couple of hours ought to see us at the camp," declared Hackett, when
he stood on the ground once more.
"How far is the lake?"
"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.
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.
The little creature seemed to be on the point of leaping off, but, as
Hackett remained perfectly still, it apparently took courage, then
gazed at the doe with such a mournful expression that the young hunter
felt touched.
"Hang it all, Somers," he exclaimed, regretfully, "I wish I hadn't made
such a corking good shot. I do--and no mistake."
"A fawn, by George! I thought I saw something moving along back of that
bush," cried Bob Somers. "Come here," he said, coaxingly, holding out
his hand.
But the small creature leaped lightly aside.
"My eye! I'll take him back with me," declared Hackett. "You bet I
will."
"Catch him first," laughed Bob.
"I think we can manage it. See, he hasn't gone far. Leave it to me,
Somers. It will be sporting up and down my father's lawn yet."
With an assortment of strange sounds, Hackett stepped forward. But
as long as he was in motion the fawn kept moving away, showing no
disposition, however, to go very far from the slain doe.
Hackett displayed a great deal of patience, and finally the fawn,
apparently realizing that no harm was intended, allowed him to approach.
In the meantime, Bob Somers had made a noose out of a piece of cord,
and when the slim boy finally succeeded in coaxing the animal to his
side, they managed, by careful work, to slip it over the fawn's neck,
and it was then a prisoner.