“I am bound to find out the truth,” said Nick, with a shake of the head.

And so he did; but little did he dream of what was to happen to him during this search for the truth.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A QUAIL.

As the hound belonged to Sam Harper and showed a disposition to go with him, he was allowed to do so, the lad moving off to the right and Nick Ribsam to the left, as was agreed upon.

Nick had not his father’s watch with him, but Herbert Watrous carried a handsome gold hunting-piece, which was now consulted and showed it was nearly two o’clock.

“The days are getting short,” said Sam Harper, with a doubtful shake of the head; “that doesn’t leave us more than three hours of daylight, and it is hardly worth while to part company.”

“What’s the odds?” laughed Nick, who was anxious to look for the deer; “we won’t be far apart, as we may be to-morrow.”

And, without waiting to discuss the question, he struck to the left with his strong step, the others following the courses already mentioned.

No afternoon could have been more charming, with the summer lingering and mellowing the approaching winter.

The faint, smoky haze of the atmosphere, the clear sky, the warm sun, the brilliant-hued vegetation in the woods, the faint cawing of crows in the distance, and the flight of birds overhead, looking like mathematical figures in India-ink gliding across the blue heavens, the delicious languor everywhere:  all these were at their best, and he who was wandering through the rainbow-tinted forest, where the sleepy waters flowed, could well understand why it was the pioneers, like Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton, and others, turned their backs on civilization, and, plunging into the wilderness, buried themselves for months from the sight of their fellow-men.

Sam Harper was moving quietly toward the north, when it seemed to him that a large leaf suddenly blew forward from beneath his feet and was carried swiftly over the ground, straight ahead and away from him.

Looking closely, he discovered that it was a plump quail which he had startled, and which was speeding from him.  Although the bird has short legs it runs very swiftly, and it was gone almost before Sam identified it.

“Ah, if I could only get a shot at you,” said the lad, his mouth fairly watering, “what a splendid supper you would make!”

The words were yet in his mouth, when a sudden whirring sound broke the air, and he caught a glimpse of a second quail flying like an arrow below the principal limbs.

Sam raised his rifle as quick as a flash, took aim as best he could, and fired.  Even the great Dr. Carver would have missed under such circumstances, and the lad came nowhere near hitting the game.

So swift was the flight of the bird, that as soon as the trigger was pulled and Sam looked for it it had vanished.  That man who handles the rifle must be wonderfully skillful to bring down one of those birds on the wing.