Part 18 (1/2)
”Where's Nick?” asked Sam, as soon as he saw the youth was alone.
”How should I know anything about him? I haven't seen him since we parted.”
”It's mighty queer, any way you may look at it; Nick is always the most prompt to keep any bargain he made, and I haven't seen anything of him for hours. He ought to have been here the very first.”
”Have you signaled to him?”
”I have fired off my gun, and shouted and whistled till my cheeks ache, and I haven't had the first show of an answer.”
The manner in which these disheartening words were uttered showed that Sam Harper was ill at ease, not so much over the continued absence of Nick, as from his utter silence. It was fully understood by all, that, if anything happened to either one, he was to signal immediately to the others.
Neither Herbert nor Sam had heard Nick's rifle, though it might have been discharged without recognition by them.
Herbert had been asleep so long that he could have missed the report very readily, while Sam was so far from Nick that the sound of his gun could have been mistaken for that fired by some wandering hunter, unknown to either.
Every few minutes, Sam halloed or whistled, after Nick's favorite manner of signaling, and then the two bent their heads and listened for the answer, which came not.
The broiled game remained untasted, for Sam's appet.i.te was suspended, and Herbert refused to eat while his companion was in such mental trouble.
”There's no use of talking,” finally exclaimed Sam, unable to repress his uneasiness, ”something has gone wrong with Nick, and I'm bound to find out what it is.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
HUNTING A BUCK.
It will be remembered that when Nick Ribsam left his companions, early in the afternoon, it was with the resolution to find out whether the showy shot made by Herbert Watrous at the buck, had done the execution he claimed for it.
This forced him to make a much longer detour than did Sam Harper, and, as he was obliged to move with great caution, he found no time to sit down and rest or sleep.
The more he reflected on the exploit which Herbert attempted, the more did he doubt it.
”I suppose they hit a target a mile off, as Sam told me; but that is when they know the exact distance. No person can hit a deer a quarter of a mile away, unless he does it by chance. Herbert proved he can't shoot anything close to him, and it isn't likely he hit the deer by accident, for such accidents don't happen unless it's a person that you don't want to hurt.”
But he had started out to find the truth of the matter, and it was in accordance with his disposition to do so, if it was possible.
Nick knew that if the buck which they had seen was anywhere in the neighborhood, it was necessary to proceed with extreme caution to avoid giving alarm. The wonder was that it had shown itself after the fright caused by the dog.
The drowsy autumn afternoon was well advanced when the boy saw, from his surroundings, that he was close to the spot where the deer stood when Herbert fired at it with his long-range rifle. There was the rock, but the animal was invisible.
Just beyond was an oak which had been upturned by some wrenching tornado or storm. The roots protruded upward and from the sides, the dirt still clinging to them, so that the bottom spread out like a fan.
The base of the trunk lay flat on the ground, but the branching limbs supported the top to that extent that it was raised five or six feet from the earth. Consequently, it sloped away in an incline from the crested summit to the base.
Such a sight is not unusual in any forest, for it is the general fas.h.i.+on of trees to fall that way; but Nick was struck by the evident fact that, although the oak was uprooted, as it is termed, yet enough connection with the ground remained to afford nourishment, and to keep life within it.
He started toward it, but had moved only a few steps when a slight rustling in the undergrowth arrested his attention. Stopping short he looked about him, and, with an amazement which can hardly be imagined, saw the buck within fifty feet of him.