OVERTAKEN BY DARKNESS.
It must have been a long time after the noon hour when Step Hen did as
he had promised, called a halt in order that they might eat their lunch,
and take a rest.
As the cold was still with them, though the snow had thus far amounted
to but little, Step Hen insisted on starting a small fire, at which they
could sit, and be comfortable, while they devoured the food provided for
the midday meal.
"You make a fire as quick as the next one, Step Hen," admitted Thad,
really meaning what he said, and at the same time wishing to raise the
drooping spirits of his hunting mate, who was feeling very sore over the
loss of his game.
"Oh! I don't pretend to know much about starting a blaze in half a dozen
styles, the way Giraffe's got it down pat," observed the other, smiling
a little; "but if you pin me down to going at it the easiest way, with
matches, and dead pine cones, why I'm there every time. And say, it does
feel some handy, don't it, Thad?"
They sat there, and chatted for quite a long time after they had
consumed the last morsel of food. And during that resting spell Step Hen
picked up many a crumb of useful knowledge concerning the ways of the
woods. Thad did not know all that Allan Hollister had learned through
practical experience; but he had made the most of his opportunities when
belonging to that other troop of scouts; and never forgot what he
learned.
"Let's be agoin' on again," remarked Step Hen, finally, scrambling to
his feet, and picking up his little rifle with a new eagerness.
"Feel like another spell of it, eh?" asked the patrol leader, following
suit.
"That's what I do," replied the other. "Nothing like a rest, and a bite,
when you're pretty near played out. I'm feeling fine and dandy again,
and ready for several hours' hard tramping. But something just seems to
tell me we'll never again have such a chance to get a six-pronged buck
as that. And to think how it should a been just what the boys were
telling me to knock over. I wonder now----"
"What?" asked Thad, as his chum came to a sudden stop.
"P'raps you'll say I'm silly if I tell you; but anyhow, here goes, Thad.
It just struck me all of a sudden that we might go back to where we lost
our deer, and do a little trailing on our own account. Them three
fellers wouldn't bother trying to hide their tracks, and chances are
they've gone into camp to eat some of that venison by this time, if not
sooner."
Thad smiled; he could not help it, upon hearing Step Hen talk in this
strain; for only too plainly did he remember how white the other had
been, and how even his voice trembled when he spoke, while facing those
three poachers.
"And after we've managed to track them to their camp, what then?" he
demanded.
Step Hen looked wonderfully brave as he instantly replied:
"Why, we might catch 'em off their guard, and hold 'em up. That deer
belongs to _me_, and I'd just like to have it the worst kind,
especially that head, with the six-pronged antlers on it. But if you
thought that proposition a little too risky, Thad, why we might conclude
to wait around, keeping under cover, till it got plumb dark. Then we
could carry off as much of the buck as we could tote, including the
head; and them fellers not be any the wiser for it, till it was too late
to follow us! How's that?"
Thad nearly had his breath taken away by the boldness of Step Hen's
astonishing proposals. He looked at the other, and a smile spread
completely across his face. Then he puckered up his lips, and gave a
little whistle, that somehow caused Step Hen to turn a bit red in the
face.
"Whew!" ejaculated Thad, "I never before suspected what a fire-eater you
could be, Step Hen. Why, nothing fazes you, nowadays. I believe you'd be
ready to snap your fingers in the faces of a dozen of the worst rascals
that ever hid up here in the piney woods of Maine. But I'm afraid that's
too risky a job for me to back up, as the leader of the patrol. I feel
the burden of responsibility too much to allow it. What could I say to
your father and mother if there was no Step Hen to answer to the
roll-call, when we mustered out after this Maine hunt? So, on the whole,
Step Hen, much as I hate to disappoint you, I'm afraid I'll have to put
a damper on your scheme."
"Oh! all right, Thad," quickly remarked the other, with an evident vein
of relief in his voice; "I was only telling you what came into my head.
You see, that's the way with me; I'm always having these brilliant
plans, though my own good sense won't let me try to carry them out. So
we'll just continue our old hunt; and hope another buck may heave in
sight. But if one does, please let fly the same time I shoot, Thad;
because we hadn't ought to take any chances of his getting away. You
will, won't you, Thad?"
"Why, yes, I think I'm entitled to a shot by now, Step Hen," replied the
other; "seeing that I held back purposely, so as to let you have all the
glory of getting that first prize. But as you say, we need venison; and
the next time we'll shoot together so's to make sure."
"Good! Then let's be moving, Thad."
Since Step Hen was so set upon doing everything in their power to
retrieve the misfortune that had come upon them earlier in the day, by
means of which they had lost the first deer, Thad meant to try his level
best in order to run across another like prize.
Whenever he saw a piece of ground that looked more than ordinarily
promising he would head that way, regardless of distance or direction.
Little Thad cared as to whether they were able to return to camp that
night or not. He had spent too many nights in the open, not to feel
certain that he could manage to be at least fairly comfortable. And
then, too, Thad had the hunter's instinct pretty fully developed, and
thought little of fatigue when pursuing his favorite sport.
They kept moving in this way until the afternoon began to be pretty well
spent. Thad would not think of offering again to head toward the camp on
the shore of the lake, so long as Step Hen made no complaint. He could
not afford to be outdone by a tenderfoot, and he the patrol leader at
that.
Indeed, the gray of evening had commenced to spread around them when,
with no more warning than before, they came upon a second buck that had
possibly been lying down in the bushes.
The deer sprang away like lightning, and perhaps it was just as well
that Step Hen had asked his companion to shoot with him; for the
flitting buck made rather a difficult target to hit in that poor light.
So close together did the two lads fire that the reports blended, though
the louder bang of the smooth-bore partly drowned the sharper report of
the little repeating rifle.
Thad started to run forward, holding his gun in readiness for a second
discharge, if such were needed. Step Hen trailed along after him,
working desperately with his pump-gun; and like most excitable
greenhorns, trying every which way to work the simple mechanism but the
right way, in his eagerness to get the weapon in serviceable condition
again.
"Oh! _did_ we get him, Thad?" he cried; for possibly the smoke of
the double discharge had interfered with his vision, and he did not know
whether the deer had dropped, or sped unharmed out of sight, even before
the alert Thad could give him the contents of his second barrel.
"Looks like we'll have venison for supper to-night, anyway," laughed
Thad.
And then, Step Hen, looking more closely ahead, saw a slight movement on
the ground, which he realized must be the last expiring kick of their
quarry.
His spirits arose at once, and he gave a wild whoop of joy.
"Bully! bully!" he exclaimed, as he still ran forward after his chum;
"we did get him all right, didn't we, Thad? And I'd just like to see any
woods' thief try to hook _this_ deer away from us. Don't you let
'em do it, Thad, will you, even if we have to fight for it?"
"Don't worry," said Thad, as they came to a halt over the fallen buck;
"we're not going to have any trouble--not from that source, anyway."
If Step Hen had been less excited he might have noticed that the words
of his companion seemed to admit of their having trouble of another
kind; but just then the tenderfoot was too much wrapped up in other
things.
"Oh! that's too bad, Thad!" he remarked.
"What is?" asked the other; "both of us hit him, all right; for there's
the place your bullet went in; and these smaller holes show where my
buckshot struck."
"But look at his antlers, would you, Thad?" the other went on; "why,
this is only a two-year-old, I sure reckon, because he's got only two
prongs on his horns."
"Well so much the better for us, when we start to eat him," chuckled
Thad; "because the meat'll be just that much more tender, you see."
"Then let's get busy, and cut him up, Thad," Step Hen went on. "Seems to
me night's coming right along down on us; and the chances are we'll be
awful late getting back to camp."
What Thad really thought he did not take the trouble to mention; but no
doubt he had long before then made up his mind that they would never
make camp that evening, for he felt that Step Hen must be nearly all in.
He did start to work, however, and with the other to assist in various
ways, managed to get the deer cut up, after a fashion. The meat they
expected to carry with them, together with the head, which Step Hen
would not think of leaving behind, was made up into two packs, so that
each of them might carry a fair portion.
By that time it was pitch dark. Indeed, Step Hen had to kindle another
little fire of dry pine cones in order that the operation of getting the
meat secured might be brought to a finish.
"Wow! just look how dark it is!" exclaimed Step Hen, when finally Thad
announced that he was ready to go on, after getting his bearings, which
he did easily by sighting the North star, the clouds having very
conveniently disappeared, and all present danger of a heavy snowfall
vanishing with their going.
Step Hen was rather slow and clumsy about getting his load fastened, and
Thad had to assist him. He knew full well what was the matter. The other
was really dead tired, and could hardly put one foot before the other
without a great effort. He had been artificially kept up by the
excitement until the game was secured, and now the reaction was setting
in.
They had been slowly moving along for about ten minutes, when from a
little distance away there broke out a strange sound that, heard under
those peculiar conditions, struck Step Hen as more blood-curdling than
he had ever thought it before, when sitting safely in a camp beside a
cozy fire, and surrounded by comrades.
It was that same long-drawn howl of the Canada gray wolf; and as he
listened to a second answering cry from another quarter, somehow Step
Hen found himself shuddering.