plainly marked, as seen in
the light of the jack.

Owen must have had considerable experience in this thing of following a
trail, for he picked it up in a wonderful fashion; that is, it seemed so
in the eyes of his companion, who was quite willing to keep at his side
and bring the illuminating qualities of the little lantern to bear.

Finally, thinking that it would be best that Owen had the jack upon his
hat, he insisted on turning it over to him, contenting himself from that
moment with falling in behind, carrying the shot gun in the hollow of
his left arm, and with finger upon a trigger.

They walked for an hour in this way, and never once did Owen seem to be
in doubt.

Such clever ability to follow tracks in the night time was an education
to Cuthbert, always ready to learn new things; and he watched the manner
in which it was done, wondering if he could ever in the course of years
possess the sagacity that seemed to come so naturally to his friend.

In and out among the great trees they wound their way, just as Eli must
have done when wandering along, watching for a sight of game ahead.

Now they came to where he had evidently struck some sign, for he bent
down as he advanced, Owen showing the other just how he knew this from
the marks; since three times had Eli dropped to his knee, only to rise
again and go on, eager to get still closer to the quarry.

Finally Owen paused and pointed.

"Here he fired--only one shot," he declared, and picked up the brass
jacket of a long cartridge that had been ejected from the repeater when
Eli worked the combination.

Cuthbert looked anxiously about.

"I don't see him lying anywhere around, that's one thing that pleases
me," he said, in a relieved tone.

"No, he rushed forward--see, here are his tracks, and yonder the remains
of the deer he shot. But Eli is not here. Something happened to him.
Give me five minutes and I'll tell you what it was," declared the woods
boy, soberly.

CHAPTER XIII

BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

When Eli Perkins left the camp on that memorable afternoon with
Cuthbert's fine rifle on his shoulder, he did have a card up his sleeve,
so to speak.

Not that Eli was not intent on securing game for the pot, and meant to
keep an eye out for anything in the shape of a deer that he could bag;
for he had long desired to shoot that dandy gun, the envy of his soul,
and as yet the opportunity to use it on a gallant stag had not been
forthcoming, t