Ned crawled out to the tree with his rifle and watched for his chance.  The nearest buck was within easy range, but the grass hid his body and when the creature, scenting his enemy, threw his head high in the air Ned sent a bullet through his brain.  As the boys were dragging the carcass to the woods where they proposed to skin and cut it in two for carrying to camp, Dick said to Ned: 

“Do you know what hypocrite means?”

“I s’pose so, but what are you trying to get at?”

“Hypocrite means a fellow who tells his friend that the only way to shoot a buck is through the body, coz the head is too small to be hit, and then goes out himself and sends a bullet plumb through the center of the brain of the beast.”

“But Dick, I couldn’t see the shoulder.”

“Neither could I. You can’t sneak out that way.”

A strong wind from the northwest sprang up while the boys were finishing their supper of broiled buck’s liver and they built a wind-break to protect them while they slept.  The wind became a gale, but they slept soundly, soothed by its roaring.  They were rudely wakened by the crashing of some wild animal through the brush of their wind-break and, sitting up, saw that the whole western sky was lit up and all beyond the dark meadow was a lurid mass of flame.  The roar of the fire mingled with that of the gale, while, as the swirling columns of flame bent to the earth and swept the meadow, the crackling of the grass was like the rattling of musketry or the spitting fire of a hundred Catlings.  Soon the air became filled with sparks and cinders, and thick with smoke.

“We’ve got to mosey, Ned.  Reckon there isn’t any time to waste, either.  Shall we take the meat?”

“Got enough to do to take care of our own.”

There was plenty of light, but the flickering shadows of the trees caused by the wavering flames made the steps of the boys uncertain as they fled from the flames that were following so fast.  Ned fell headforemost into a thicket of the terrible Spanish bayonet and it was only the excitement of the hour that made the pain bearable.  They floundered across the narrow swamp and into the marshy meadow often waist deep in the mud and more than once both of them fell flat in the water of the marsh.  The narrow belt of timber which they first crossed checked the fire and although tongues of flame crossed it and a few trees took fire, while live coals were scattered broadcast over the marshy meadow, the fire died out without crossing the belt of woods that first stopped it.  The boys crossed the marshy meadow to the swamp which they first entered when they left their camp the previous morning.  As Ned’s Spanish bayonet wounds kept him from sleeping, the boys sat up and talked till daylight.

In the morning the wind had gone down and a few burning trees and little columns of smoke were all that was left of the great fire of the night.

“If you will go on to camp, Ned, I’ll go back and get that venison.  It must be well smoked.  Hope it didn’t burn up.  Give my regards to Tom.  If he isn’t good tie him up.”