And with this manly sentiment on his lips he broke into a rapid run after the buck and hound, the others following, forgetful of the little flurry a few minutes before.

It was not in the order of things that the lads should be able to make their way through the woods and undergrowth with anything like the speed of the fallow deer or dog.  Hunters don’t expect to overtake their game in anything like a fair chase when all are on foot, but resort to stratagem.

By stationing themselves so as to head off a deer, they secure the one shot which is all-sufficient.  It would be counted an extremely good piece of fortune could they obtain such a fair target as has already been given the young hunters; and, having let it pass unimproved, they scarcely would have expected to be so favored again.

It was natural, therefore, that they should make a pell-mell rush after the deer and hound, and that they should keep going until, once more, they were forced to stop from exhaustion.

By this time the baying of Bowser came to them so faintly that it was plain he was a mile distant at the least, while there could be little doubt that the buck was much farther off.

“Well!” exclaimed the panting Herbert Watrous, “I can’t say I see much fun in this; it’s too much like chasing a railroad train.”

“No,” added Nick, “I don’t see that there is any hope of running down the deer, who is more used to traveling than we are.”

“Maybe he’ll come round in a circle again,” said Sam, “and we may have another chance to see him sail by, while not one of us raises his gun.”

“I suppose we ought to understand something more about the habits of the deer, so that we would know what course he would be likely to take.  We could then get there ahead of him and fire as soon as he gave us a chance.”

“Well,” added Sam, with a sigh, “he seems to have taken the route we were going to follow to hunt the bear, so we may as well tramp along.  We may get a glimpse of a buffalo or elephant next.”

The baying of the hound had ceased, and, though the boys often stopped and listened, they heard nothing more of it.

“I guess he has caught the deer,” said Herbert, who showed a desire to speak well of Bowser since he had failed to shoot him, “and is waiting for us.”

But Sam shook his head; he knew the canine too well to believe him capable of such an exploit as that.

“I don’t think he ever ran down anything yet, unless it was a chicken or cat—­hallo!”

At that moment the subject of their conversation appeared on the scene, approaching as quietly as though the boys were sheep that he wished to surprise.

He slouched along with a lazy, tired gait, his tongue out, and dripping with perspiration, while he panted as though he had been on the severest chase of his life, which most likely was the fact.

He lay down at the feet of Sam Harper, and, stretching out his paws, rested his head between them as much as to say, “Gentlemen, I have had enough of this sport, and resign; you will now carry it on without my assistance.”