Part 15 (1/2)

”All right. I'll crack him!” he promised.

”Now, for the Lord's sake, don't you miss 'im!” Dennis warned. ”I don't want Tom ter have the laugh on us.”

The Boy promised, and Dennis called his dogs and hurried into the bottoms toward the Salt Lick. In half an hour the dogs opened on a hot trail that grew fainter and fainter in the distance until they could scarcely be heard. They stopped altogether for a moment and then took up the cry gradually growing clearer and clearer. The deer had run the limit of his first impulse and taken the back track, returning directly over the same trail.

Nearer and nearer the pack drew, the trail growing hotter and hotter with each leap of the hounds.

The Boy was trembling with excitement. He c.o.c.ked his gun and stood ready. Boney lay on a pile of leaves ten feet away quietly dozing.

Louder and louder rang the cry of the hounds. They seemed to be right back of the hill now. The deer should leap over its crest at any moment.

His gun was half lifted and his eyes flaming with excitement when a beautiful half grown fawn sprang over the hill and stood for a moment staring with wide startled eyes straight into his.

The savage yelp of the hounds close behind rang clear, sharp and piercing as they reared the summit. The panting, trembling fawn glanced despairingly behind, looked again into the Boy's eyes, and as the first dog leaped the hill crest made his choice. Staggering and panting with terror, he dropped on his knees by the Boy's side, the bloodshot eyes begging piteously for help.

The Boy dropped his gun and gathered the trembling thing in his arms. In a moment the hounds were on him leaping and tearing at the fawn. He kicked them right and left and yelled with all his might:

”Down, I tell you! Down or I'll kill you!”

The hounds continued to leap and snap in spite of his kicks and cries until Boney saw the struggle, and stepped between his master and his tormenters. One low growl and not another hound came near.

When Dennis arrived panting for breath he couldn't believe his eyes. The Boy was holding the exhausted fawn in his lap with a glazed look in his eyes.

”Well, of all the dam-fool things I ever see sence G.o.d made me, this takes the cake!” he cried in disgust. ”Why didn't ye shoot him?”

”Because he ran to me for help--how could I shoot him?”

Dennis sat down and roared:

”Well, of all the deer huntin', this beats me!”

The Boy rose, still holding the fawn in his arms.

”You can take the gun and go on. Boney and me'll go back home----”

”You ain't goin' ter carry that thing clean home, are you?”

”Yes, I am,” was the quiet answer. ”And I'll kill any dog that tries to hurt him.”

Dennis was still laughing when he disappeared, Boney walking slowly at his heels.

He showed the fawn to his mother and told Sarah she could have him for a pet. The mother watched him with s.h.i.+ning eyes while he built a pen and then lifted the still trembling wild thing inside.

Next morning the pen was down and the captive gone. The Boy didn't seem much surprised or appear to care. When he was alone with his mother she whispered:

”Didn't you go out there last night and let it loose when the dogs were asleep?”

He was still a moment and then nodded his head.

His mother clasped him to her heart.

”O my Boy! My own--I love you!”