yet a
considerable distance off.

"Yes. What makes you so late?" was the impatient response and question.

Without pausing to reply, Herbert hurried forward and a few minutes
later joined Sam Harper, who had a large fire going, and had broiled a
squirrel and a rabbit, both of which were in fine condition.

"Where's Nick?" asked Sam, as soon as he saw the youth was alone.

"How should I know anything about him? I haven't seen him since we
parted."

"It's mighty queer, any way you may look at it; Nick is always the most
prompt to keep any bargain he made, and I haven't seen anything of him
for hours. He ought to have been here the very first."

"Have you signaled to him?"

"I have fired off my gun, and shouted and whistled till my cheeks ache,
and I haven't had the first show of an answer."

The manner in which these disheartening words were uttered showed that
Sam Harper was ill at ease, not so much over the continued absence of
Nick, as from his utter silence. It was fully understood by all, that,
if anything happened to either one, he was to signal immediately to the
others.

Neither Herbert nor Sam had heard Nick's rifle, though it might have
been discharged without recognition by them.

Herbert had been asleep so long that he could have missed the report
very readily, while Sam was so far from Nick that the sound of his gun
could have been mistaken for that fired by some wandering hunter,
unknown to either.

Every few minutes, Sam halloed or whistled, after Nick's favorite manner
of signaling, and then the two bent their heads and listened for the
answer, which came not.

The broiled game remained untasted, for Sam's appetite was suspended,
and Herbert refused to eat while his companion was in such mental
trouble.

"There's no use of talking," finally exclaimed Sam, unable to repress
his uneasiness, "something has gone wrong with Nick, and I'm bound to
find out what it is."

CHAPTER XXIII.

HUNTING A BUCK.

It will be remembered that when Nick Ribsam left his companions, early
in the afternoon, it was with the resolution to find out whether the
showy shot made by Herbert Watrous at the buck, had done the execution
he claimed for it.

This forced him to make a much longer detour than did Sam Harper, and,
as he was obliged to move with great caution, he found no time to sit
down and rest or sleep.

The more he reflected on the exploit which Herbert attempted, the more
did he doubt it.