"Will that be enough?" asked Port.
"With those in my pouch? I"d say they would. If I get a chance to use half a dozen, I"ll be satisfied. You boys"d better take plenty of buckshot, though. You"ll be sowing the woods with "em."
Susie did not exactly care to handle those "shooting-irons," as Vosh called them; but there was a strange fascination about them, after all.
She could understand why, when they were all laid down on the table, aunt Judith put on her spectacles, and came and peered at them all over, and said,--
"They ain"t much like the guns we had when I was a girl. They used to kill heaps o" game, too."
"What is the difference, aunt Judith?" asked Susie.
"Well, "pears like these ain"t much more"n half as big and heavy. Double bar"ls, too, and all our"n was single. We had flint locks, and didn"t know what percussion-caps was. "Pears to me, if I was goin" a-huntin", I"d ruther have one of the old kind."
Pen counted her father"s bullets over and over, till she could hardly tell whether he had two dozen or four; and Corry had to stop her nicking them with the scissors.
"That"s to show they"re counted."
"Yes; but they won"t go straight with nicks in "em. You"ll make father miss his deer."
Vosh went home early; but it was all arranged before he left the house, and it was safe to say that n.o.body he left behind him would go to sleep right away.
It was very hard indeed, all day Sunday, for the youngsters to keep good, and not to say more than once an hour,--
"It"s good and cold. The crust"ll be all right to-morrow."
The Monday morning breakfast was eaten before daylight, and it was hardly over before they heard Vosh and Mrs. Stebbins at the door.
They came right in, of course; and the first words were from her,--
"Now, Judith, you and Sarah ain"t goin", are ye? I"d go in a minute, if I had a gun, and was sure it wouldn"t go off.--Susie, are you and Pen goin"? I do hope there"ll be deer enough for all four on "em, and they won"t come back and have to say they left "em in the woods."
There was not much time to talk, so ready was every thing and every body; but it did seem to Port as if Vosh Stebbins"s hand-sled, long as it was, was a small provision for bringing home all the deer they were to kill.
"The lunch-basket and the snow-shoes half fill it now."
"It"ll do," said Vosh. "You"ll see."
"Why don"t you put on your snow-shoes?"
"The ice-pegs I"ve put in all your boot-heels"ll be worth a good deal more, if the crust"s what it"s likely to be."
It was not a great while before they all discovered what good things to prevent slipping were a few iron peg-heads sticking out of the heels of your boots. As for the snow-shoes, n.o.body ever wants to wear such clumsy affairs unless it is necessary.
Old Ponto had been in a fever ever since the boys began to clean the guns Sat.u.r.day evening; but Vosh had secured for that day"s work the services of a very different kind of dog,--one, moreover, that seemed to know him, and to be disposed to obey his orders, but that paid small attention to the advances of any other person.
"Is Jack a deer-hound?" asked Port.
"Not quite," said Vosh. "He"s only a half-breed; but he"s run down a good many deer, knows all about it."
He was a tall, strong, long-legged animal, with lop-ears and a sulky face; but there was much more "hunter" in his appearance than in that of old Ponto. His conduct was also more business-like; for it was not until Ponto had slid all the way to the bottom of several deep hollows, that he learned the wisdom of plodding along with the rest, instead of searching the woods for rabbits.
"Rabbits!" The very mention of those little animals made the boys look at each other as if asking,--
"Did you ever hunt any thing as small as a rabbit?"
The snow in the woods was deep, but it was not drifted much; and the crust was hard, except close to the trunks of the trees, and under the heavier pines and hemlocks. Walking was easy, and they pushed right on through the forest.
"How"ll we ever find our way back again?" asked Port.
"Follow our own tracks," said Corry. "Besides, father and Vosh"d never dream of getting lost around here. Guess I wouldn"t, either."
Port looked back at the trail they had made. He thought he could follow that. Still he would have been more sure of himself in the streets of a city, with names and numbers on all the lamp-posts at the corners.
"Keep your tempers, boys. It"s hunter"s luck, you know. We may not get a single shot."
The words were hardly out of the deacon"s mouth, before Jack sprang suddenly forward, anxiously followed by Ponto.
"He"s scented!" exclaimed Vosh. "There isn"t much wind; but it"s blowing this way, what there is."
"Hark! Hear him?"
That was music. It seemed as if a thrill went over every nerve among them, at the cry of the excited hound, as he fully caught the scent, and "opened on it."
"There"ll be a run now, Vosh."
"Not up the mountain."
"No, we won"t follow yet. If they turn him, he"ll come this way."
"Or down the hollow."
"No lake for him now."
"He can run on this crust."
"Yes, but he can"t pick his own course with the dogs behind him."
Comments followed thick and fast, as the eager sportsmen pushed onward.
It seemed to the boys a good time to do some running, if they could but know in what direction to go; but Vosh and the deacon were carefully studying what they called "the lay of the land."
Ahead of them, they knew, was a bold, steep mountain, such as no deer would climb. Half a mile to the right was the road to Mink Lake; and to the left and behind them the woods were open, with a fair amount of "running-room."
"If they turn him," said Vosh, "he"ll have to pa.s.s in sight. You may get a shot, deacon. It"ll be a long one, but I"d be ready if I was you."
It turned out that way in less than five minutes; for a fine doe came springing across the snow, well ahead of the dogs, and out of "shot-gun range."
"Try her, deacon! There, she"s broken through! Try her!"
The deacon"s rifle was already at his shoulder, and, just as the beautiful animal scrambled out upon the crust, the sharp "crack" rang through the forest.