Chapter 11

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.