Sappy was not an athlete nor an intellectual giant, but his little piggy eyes were wonderfully sharp and clear.

“I see him,” he yelled presently, and pointed out the place seventy-five yards away where he saw one ear and part of the head.

“Tally ten for Sappy,” and Yan marked it down.

Guy was filled with pride at his success.  He made elaborate preparation to shoot, remarking, “I could ‘a’ seen it twicet as far—­if—­if—­if—­it was—­if I had a fair chance.”

He drew his bow and left fly.  The arrow went little more than half way.  So Sam remarked, “Five steps up I kin go.  It don’t say nothing about how long the steps?”

“No.”

“Well, here goes,” and he began the most wonderful Kangaroo hops that he could do.  He covered about thirty feet in those five steps, and by swerving a little aside he got a good view of the Deer.  He was now less than sixty-five yards away.  He fired and missed.  Now Guy had the right to walk up five steps.  He also missed.  Finally at thirty yards Sam sent an arrow close past a tree, deep in the Deer’s gray flank.

“Bully shot!  Body wound!  Count five for the Great War Chief.  All shooting from this spot now,” said Yan, “and I don’t know why I shouldn’t shoot as well as the others.”

“Coz you’re the Deer and that’d be suicide,” was Sam’s objection.  “But it’s all right.  You won’t hit.”

The objection was not sustained, and Yan tried his luck also.  Two or three shots in the brown of the Deer’s haunch, three or four into the tree that stood half way between, but nearly in line, a shot or two into the nose, then “Hooray!” a shot from Guy right into the Deer’s heart put an end to the chase.  Now they went up to draw and count the arrows.

Guy was ahead with a heart shot, ten, a body wound, five, and a scratch, one, that’s sixteen, with ten more for finding it—­twenty-six points.  Sam followed with two body wounds and two scratches—­twelve points, and Yan one body wound and five scratches—­ten points.  The Deer looked like an old Porcupine when they came up to it, and Guy, bursting with triumph, looked like a young Emperor.

“I tell you it takes me to larn you fellers to Deer hunt.  I’ll bet I’ll hit him in the heart first thing next time.”

“I’ll bet you won’t, coz you’ll be Deer and can’t shoot till we both have.”

Guy thought this the finest game he had ever played.  He pranced away with the dummy on his back, scheming as he went to make a puzzle for the others.  He hid the Deer in a dense thicket east of the camp, then sneaked around to the west of the camp and yelled “Ready!” They had a long, tedious search and had to give it up.

“Now what to do?  Who counts?” asked the Woodpecker.

“When Deer escapes it counts twenty-five,” replied the inventer of the game; and again Guy was ahead.

“This is the bulliest game I ever seen” was his ecstatic remark.