But, then, there are times when the sporting instinct sways all else. And
Steve understood that still hunting deer meant a padlock on the lips.

After all, disappointment awaited them.

They put in a solid hour looking over all the territory first mentioned
by Trapper Jim, but without starting a single deer.

"They've been around," Max finally observed, "and not long ago either,
because you can see the tracks as fresh as anything; but it must have
been yesterday, because they're not here now."

"Looky!" exclaimed Steve, "here's where a five-pronged buck must 'a'
rubbed himself against this tree, because there's a big bunch of red hair
sticking to the rough bark. Glory! Wouldn't I like to have been about
over there by the log when he was doing it. Oh, such a shot!"

"You could hardly have missed him from there," laughed Max.

"What next?" asked the disappointed one.

"The sun's getting up pretty near the top of its range. That means it's
near noon time," remarked Max.

"And time for grub, eh?" cried Steve. "Well, I won't be sorry, believe
me, for several reasons. First place, I'm hungry as all get-out. Then,
again, I'm tired of toting all this stuff around. Say when, Max."

"Oh, we'll keep on for half an hour more till we come to a stream where
we can get a drink. Then in the afternoon we'll circle around some, so as