"Now the minute you see him jump that ridge let him have it!" Dennis
said. "He'll come straight down the hill right inter your face."
The Boy took his place and began to feel the savage excitement of his
older companion. He threw the gun in place and drew a bead on an
imaginary bounding deer.
"All right. I'll crack him!" he promised.
"Now, for the Lord's sake, don't you miss 'im!" Dennis warned. "I don't
want Tom ter have the laugh on us."
The Boy promised, and Dennis called his dogs and hurried into the
bottoms toward the Salt Lick. In half an hour the dogs opened on a hot
trail that grew fainter and fainter in the distance until they could
scarcely be heard. They stopped altogether for a moment and then took up
the cry gradually growing clearer and clearer. The deer had run the
limit of his first impulse and taken the back track, returning directly
over the same trail.
Nearer and nearer the pack drew, the trail growing hotter and hotter
with each leap of the hounds.
The Boy was trembling with excitement. He cocked his gun and stood
ready. Boney lay on a pile of leaves ten feet away quietly dozing.
Louder and louder rang the cry of the hounds. They seemed to be right
back of the hill now. The deer should leap over its crest at any moment.
His gun was half lifted and his eyes flaming with excitement when a
beautiful half grown fawn sprang over the hill and stood for a moment
staring with wide startled eyes straight into his.
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