sheltering tree.

But, then, Max did not mean to register a miss.

He pressed the trigger at just the right time as the buck was rising in
the air. And when he saw the deer crash to the ground, although he felt a
thrill of satisfaction, cautious Max was not like Steve, rushing headlong
forward to bleed his game.

On the contrary, his first act was to go through the rapid action that
placed his rifle in serviceable condition again.

"Take care, Max," yelled Steve, seeing the buck struggling, "that's how
he fooled me, the sharp dodger! He's the tricky one, all right, you bet!
Watch him climb up again, now! Take that big tree right alongside you,
Max!"

But instead of doing this Max advanced toward the spot where the buck had
fallen. He was ready to send in another shot should it be needed. But
there was no necessity.

The buck gave one last violent kick and then lay still.

"All over, Steve; you can come along," said Max, beckoning toward the
other.

Steve stopped to pick up his gun, examined it with apparent solicitude,
as if to make sure it had not been injured, and then carefully replaced
the discharged shells with fresh ones.