By this time Henry had reloaded, and watching his chance he ran up and let drive for the buck's neck. This shot proved fatal, and rocking to and fro for several seconds the magnificent beast at last fell down on his side, and breathed his last.
"Is he—he dead?" came from Dave, as he pulled himself out of the tangle of brushwood.
"I think he is," replied his cousin. "But we had better make sure. Bucks are mighty tricky at times."
Taking out his hunting knife Henry went forward and cut the throat of the game. Then Barringford leaped from the rocks, and all went to inspect the buck.
"A regular monarch of the forest!" cried Dave, enthusiastically. "Don't know as I've ever seen a larger."
"Nor I," added Barringford. "An' he was a fighter, too, wasn't he?"
"We've got more deer meat now than we know what to do with," went on Dave.
"We don't want the meat of this buck," said Henry. "It would be as tough as all get-out. We can take the skin and some of the meat from that deer, and that will be enough; don't you say so, Sam?"
"Right you are, lad."
All were experienced in the work at hand, so it
