Turning his face, he peered out on his right: the buck was not visible
in that direction.

Then he did the same toward the left: his enemy was invisible on that
side also.

"He is gone," said the lad to himself, still afraid to venture from the
shielding trunk that had been the means of saving him from the fury of
the enraged deer.

Nick believed he was close at hand, waiting for him to make a move that
would give another chance to assault him.

After several more minutes, the lad hitched farther backward, so that he
was able to raise his head a few inches. This extended his field of
observation, and, with a feeling of inexpressible relief, he still
failed to catch sight of the game.

"I guess he got discouraged and left," said Nick, startled at the
evidences of the buck's wrath so near him.

Finally the lad backed clear out from under the tree, and climbed to his
feet; it was climbing in every sense, for he nearly cried with pain
several times, and, still fearful that he had been seriously injured, he
examined himself as best he could.

A few minutes convinced him that none of his bones was broken, although
he afterward declared that he suspected his head had been fractured.

He now looked about for his gun and found it within a short distance,
much scratched by the hard treatment it had received, but without any
real injury.

Throwing the weapon over his shoulder, he started in the direction of
the appointed rendezvous, and, as he did so, observed that it was
already grown dark in the woods. Night had come, and he had quite a long
distance to walk.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE CAMP FIRE.

But Nick Ribsam was full of grit, and, though every step he took caused
him pain, he persevered with that grim resolution that was a part of his
nature from his very birth.

After walking some distance he found the soreness and stiffness leaving
him, and he straightened up with something of his natural vim and
elasticity of spirits.

"There's one thing certain," he added, recalling his encounter with the
buck, "I didn't have any one to help me out of that scrape, except the
One who always helps him that helps himself; but I never wanted a friend
more than then, and, if it hadn't been for that oak, it would have been
the last of Nicholas Ribsam."

"There is another thing I have learned," he added, with that glimmer of
humor which was sure to show itself, "I know considerable more than I
did yesterday; I have a good