The travellers met at the settler's cabin early on Tuesday morning,
having broken camp shortly after daybreak. On Monday evening Cyrus and
Neal, with Uncle Eb, had returned to the bark hut to pack their
knapsacks, and make ready for a forward march. On the way thither, it
being just the hour for the deer to be running,--that is, descending
from the hills for an evening meal,--Neal got a successful shot at a
small two-year-old buck. This was a stroke of luck for the campers, and
a necessary deed of death. It supplied them with venison for their
journey; and, as Cyrus said, "they had already put a shamefully big hole
in Dr. Phil's stores, and must procure a respectable supply of meat to
make up for it."

It also provided Tiger with plenty of bones to crunch during his
master's absence; for the dog was left behind in charge of the hut, as
indeed he often was for a week or more while Uncle Eb was away guiding.
The sportsmen who engaged the latter's services were generally averse to
the creature's presence with the party, lest he should scare their game.

Cyrus and Neal bade him a pathetic farewell, remembering the exciting
fun he had given them with the raccoon. Dol sent him lots of approving
messages, which were duly delivered, with rough pats and shakes, by
Uncle Eb, who fully believed that the brute understood every word of
them. Indeed, the sign language of Tiger's expressive tail confirmed
this opinion.

Dol had remained at the log camp with his new friends, Dr. Phil thinking
it well that he should rest his feet until the morning of the start. His
brother promised to bring his knapsack and rifle to the settler's
cabin. Uncle Eb repossessed himself of his shot-gun, pouch, and