Meanwhile Grant was stalking his game. He crouched low and making as
much speed as was consistent with quietness, he hurried along.
"Just look at him!" cried George ecstatically, as now and again the
hunter could be seen to stop and peer cautiously in the direction of his
prey.
"I should think the fact that it hasn't moved would make him
suspicious," remarked John.
"He thinks herons always act that way," chuckled Fred. "I can hardly
wait for him to shoot."
"You follows nearly queered your whole game a couple of times all
right," said John. "We were both suspicious of you. Why, twice you had
grins on your faces so long you could almost pin them in the back."
"It was so funny," laughed George. "To think how we planned the whole
thing and how easily he fell into it. Why, it was almost too easy."
"Don't be too sure," warned John. "He hasn't fired yet, you know."
"He will all right," said Fred confidently. "The old bird has been dead
for about a month and you just ought to smell it."
"Won't he be mad?" exclaimed George. This thought seemed to give him
special pleasure.
"He'll probably shoot us," laughed Fred.
"Where is he now?" inquired John. "I don't see him."
"He's down behind that rock," said George. "There he comes."
"He'd better shoot pretty soon," chuckled Fred. "The bird will fly away
if he isn't careful."
"Isn't this rich?" exclaimed George. "Just think of putting up a game on
Grant like this."
"Look at him!" cried Fred. "He's almost on his hands and knees now."
"Shoot, Grant, shoot!" urged George.
Nearer and nearer to the heron Grant crept. He had his gun half raised
as he stole along, prepared to shoot at any moment. His three companions
intently watched him, thoroughly enjoying the whole affair.
"If he doesn't shoot pretty soon he'll see that it's dead," said John.
"He's trying to get up behind that bush, I think," said George.
"He's taking a chance," laughed Fred. "The heron will see him and fly
away if he isn't more careful."
"There he goes!" exclaimed George. "He's going to shoot."
"And now for the fun," cried Fred. "Won't he be mad though?"
Grant stopped and sinking to one knee he raised the little rifle to his
shoulder.
"Don't miss him, Grant," chuckled Fred.
The gun spoke, and a moment later the faint report came to the ears of
the three boys who watched from behind the elderberry bushes.
"Did he hit him?" laughed George. "What's he doing?"
Grant had jumped to his feet after the first shot and started to run
along the shore. He came to the log where the dead heron had been
propped up but he did not stop there. He continued on past this spot and
the conspirators for the first time had an inkling that all was not
going as they had hoped.
"What's happened?" demanded John in surprise. "What's he after?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Fred blankly.
Some fifty or sixty feet beyond the spot where the dead log lay Grant
continued. Not one of his friends had been looking at this place for
their attention had been riveted on the dead heron.
The grass grew level with Grant's knees where he was now. He leaned over
and seemed to be looking down at something on the ground at his feet.
"What do you suppose it is?" demanded George curiously.
"Look," exclaimed John and as he spoke Grant lifted from the grass a
great blue heron. He held it by the feet and turning towards the bush
where his companions were he waved his gun. Then he slung the big bird
over his shoulder and started to retrace his steps.
George, Fred, and John had watched these proceedings in open-mouthed
amazement.
"Well, what do you know about that?" exclaimed George limply.
"I guess he's got us all right," sighed Fred. "Let's skip back to camp
before he gets hold of us."
"We'd better stay and face the music," said George with a sigh. "Doesn't
that beat all? Just when we thought we had him good and fooled, he turns
around and puts the joke on us."
"I don't see yet what happened," exclaimed John.
"Why, he saw another heron, that's all," said Fred. "It was a live one
too, I guess."
"Where's the one you and Pop fixed up for him?"
"Still there behind the log."
"Grant never even looked at it," said George. "He'll make our lives
miserable all the rest of the summer."
"It's almost over now," said Fred. "He can't tease us long."
In silence the three boys sat and watched their comrade approach. John
did not dread the meeting so much, for he had not been one of the
original conspirators, but Fred and George looked forward to Grant's
arrival with anything but pleasure.
"What do you think of him?" cried Grant as he held up his prize for his
friends to see. "Isn't he a beauty?"
"He's all right," said George weakly.
"What's the matter, Pop?" demanded Grant. "You don't seem very
enthusiastic. Don't you like his looks?"
"He's fine," replied George in a hollow voice.
"Where did you find him?" demanded Fred bluntly.
"Right where I shot him," said Grant. "You saw the spot where I picked
him up, didn't you?"
"We saw it all right," said Fred grimly. "We haven't a word to say
either. You have the joke on us all right, Grant. All I ask is that you
don't rub it in too much."
"I won't," laughed Grant. "It was awfully funny the way it turned out. I
never suspected at first that the heron you pointed out to me was dead.
I kept sneaking up as close as I dared and the thing never moved a bit
and it began to strike me as sort of queer. Then I remembered how you
fellows had snickered a couple of times and I felt pretty sure that
something was wrong.
"All of a sudden I saw this bird just a few yards beyond the log. I knew
then that my chance had come to turn the joke on you, but I was so
anxious my arm was shaking like a leaf. I was afraid I surely would miss
and when I saw that I hadn't, I can tell you I felt pretty good. Here's
the heron and if you two fellows want yours you'll find him down by that
log. He smells a little strong though."
"Let's go back to camp," exclaimed George.
"All right," laughed Grant. "As long as you don't like the subject, I
won't say too much about it."
Laughing and joking they made their way back towards their camp. George
and Fred realized how badly they had fared in their attempt to play a
practical joke, but they were good sports and consequently good losers.
They joined in the fun at their own expense, and were unstinted in their
praise of the prize Grant had gained.
"We certainly got more than we were looking for that time," said George
laughingly. "You are----"
He suddenly ceased speaking and gazed in surprise in the direction of
the tent.
"What's the matter?" demanded John anxiously.
"Some man with a big black beard just ran around the other side of the
tent," exclaimed George.