Walter could not refrain from laughing at the expression on the other's face. "Counted your chickens before they were hatched," he chuckled.
"Oh, I got him all right!" declared his companion confidently. "Look at the blood on the grass. He can't run far before he drops. See, he is beginning to falter now."
All the while they had been talking the boys had been hurrying after the deer, which, although a good mile away, was still in plain sight. Within five minutes after McCarty spoke, it suddenly disappeared.
"It's down," McCarty cried. "Let's hurry as fast as we can. It's getting late, and we are a good eight miles from camp."
When they reached the deer it was dead. The bullet had passed through the body close to the heart. McCarty produced a cord from his game bag, and, tying its front legs to its hind ones, slung the deer upon his back. "If you'll bring my gun, I'll manage the deer," he said. "It's a rule of the chase that each man shall bring in his own kill."
Walter slung the rifle over his shoulder. "I'll spell you when you get tired," he offered.
"I am not likely to get tired. The only thing I'm afraid of is that we are not going to be able to make camp before dark, and, for certain reasons, I hate to camp in this country overnight."
MCCARTY took the lead, and, without hesitation, struck out due north.
"Why, you're going the wrong way," Walter exclaimed, "or at least it seems the wrong way to me. How do you know you're headed right?"
McCarty grinned. "I spent lots of my spare time hunting," he explained, "and most of it was done in a worse country than this, where one could get lost within a couple of hundred yards of camp. That kind of hunting develops a kind of direction instinct, as hunters call it, but which is really a habit of observation. Now I have taken note of every turn we have made to-day, and, although we are not going back the way we came, I'll guarantee that we'll come out within a hundred yards of camp. But I guess I had better stop bragging. I need all my wind to handle this deer."
It soon became evident that McCarty was right, and that they were not going to be able to make camp before dark. Indeed, they had covered not more than three miles of the distance when darkness descended upon them.