carcass and the would-be rescuer. Then Rolf remembered the Indian's
words: "You can make strong medicine with your mouth." He spoke to
the deer, gently, softly. Then came nearer, and tapped o'n the horn he
wished to cut; softly speaking and tapping he increased his force, until
at last he was permitted to chop seriously at that prison bar. It took
many blows, for the antler stuff is very thick and strong at this time,
but the horn was loose at last. Rolf gave it a twist and the strong buck
was free. Free for what?

Oh, tell it not among the folk who have been the wild deer's friend!
Hide it from all who blindly believe that gratitude must always follow
good-will! With unexpected energy, with pent-up fury, with hellish
purpose, the ingrate sprang on his deliverer, aiming a blow as deadly as
was in his power.

Wholly taken by surprise, Rolf barely had time to seize the murderer's
horns and ward them off his vitals. The buck made a furious lunge. Oh!
what foul fiend was it gave him then such force?--and Rolf went down.
Clinging for dear life to those wicked, shameful horns, he yelled as he
never yelled before: "Quonab, Quonabi help me, oh, help me!" But he
was pinned at once, the fierce brute above him pressing on his chest,
striving to bring its horns to bear; his only salvation had been that
their wide spread gave his body room between. But the weight on his
chest was crushing out his force, his life; he had no breath to call
again. How the ravens chuckled, and "haw-hawed" in the tree!

The buck's eyes gleamed again with the emerald light of murderous
hate, and he jerked his strong neck this way and that with the power of
madness. It could not last for long. The boy's strength was going fast;
the beast was crushing in his chest.

"Oh, God, help me!" he gasped, as the antlered fiend began again
struggling for the freedom of those murderous horns. The brute was
almost free, when the ravens rose with loud croaks, and out of the woods
dashed another to join the fight. A smaller deer? No; what? Rolf knew
not, nor how, but in a moment there was a savage growl and Skookum
had the murderer by the hind leg. Worrying and tearing he had not the
strength to throw the deer, but his teeth were sharp, his heart was in
his work, and when he transferred his fierce attack to parts more tender
still, the buck, already spent, reared, wheeled, and fell. Before he
could recover Skookum pounced upon him by the nose and hung on like a
vice.