“He is tired out, and I don’t wonder,” said Sam, stooping over and patting the head of the hound; “he ain’t used to deer hunting, and don’t know much more about it than do we.”

“Then he don’t know anything,” was the truthful observation of Nick Ribsam.

“It’s my opinion that it’s best to give up hunting that particular deer until we learn a little more about the right way to do it.”

CHAPTER XVI.

THE DINNER IN THE WOODS.

By this time it was close to the hour of noon, and the young hunters were hungry.  They had brought no lunch with them, for that would have been an admission that they doubted their own ability to provide food for themselves in a country abounding with game.

Nick Ribsam had a paper of salt and pepper mixed, with which to season their dinner as soon as it should be secured.

The common red squirrels, or chickarees, were so plentiful that they were nearly always in sight, and, without moving from where they stood, the lads descried several running along the limbs of the trees.

“Let each of us shoot one,” said Sam, walking forth to get a better aim at a fellow perched high on the branch of a large oak.

Slowly bringing his gun to his shoulder, he took careful aim, and the game came tumbling through the leaves to the ground, his head punctured by the cruel bullet.  Bowser started at a lazy walk to bring the body in, but Sam stopped him and picked it up himself.

“I think I will take that one,” said Herbert, indicating a squirrel which was nearer than the others.  It was sitting in the crotch of a tree, nigh enough to be struck with a stone flung by a skillful thrower.

The other two watched his actions with some interest as he raised the handsome breech-loader.  He took a long and deliberate aim, and gave a grunt the instant he pulled the trigger, and the sharp report broke the stillness of the woods.

Nick and Sam laughed, for the frightened rodent scampered up the tree and ran out upon a heavy branch, where he whisked from sight and then back again, chattering in such a lively fashion that it was plain he had suffered no inconvenience from the bullet sent after him.

“Well, I’ll be hanged!” exclaimed the chagrined Herbert, “I don’t understand how that came about.”

“The squirrel doesn’t seem to understand it, either,” said Sam; “let’s see whether you can do any worse, Nick.”

“I’m going to try and bark him,” remarked Nick, cocking his rifle and sighting at the little animal.

Before he could make his aim sure, the chickaree started to run along the limb, which was large and covered with thick, shaggy bark; but the muzzle of the weapon swerved slowly in a corresponding direction, and just as the game gathered itself to make a leap, the explosion came.

The others, who were watching the squirrel to note the result, saw several pieces of bark suddenly fly upward with such force that the rodent was hurled fully a foot above the limb, dropping like a wet rag at the feet of the lad, killed, without its skin being broken.