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 o