but you'll all have a chance. Now you fellers stay here
and I'll hide the Deer. Wait till I come back."

So Yan ran off northward with the dummy, then swung around to the east
and hid it at a place quite out of the line that he first took. He
returned nearly to where he came out, shouting "Ready!"

Then the hunters sallied forth fully armed, and Yan explained: "First
to find it counts ten and has first shot. If he misses, next one can
walk up five steps and shoot; if he misses, next walks five steps
more, and so on until the Deer is hit. Then all the shooting must be
done from the place where that arrow was fired. A shot in the heart
counts ten; in the gray counts five; that's a body wound--and a hit
outside of that counts one--that's a scratch. If the Deer gets away
without a shot in the heart, then I count twenty-five, and the first
one to find it is Deer for next hunt--twelve shots each is the limit."

The two hunters searched about for a long time. Sam made disparaging
remarks about the trail this Deer _did not_ leave, and Guy
sneaked and peaked in every thicket.

Sappy was not an athlete nor an intellectual giant, but his little
piggy eyes were wonderfully sharp and clear.

"I see him," he yelled presently, and pointed out the place
seventy-five yards away where he saw one ear and part of the head.

"Tally ten for Sappy," and Yan marked it down.

Guy was filled with pride at his success. He made elaborate
preparation to shoot, remarking, "I could 'a' seen it twicet as
far--if--if--if--it was--if I had a fair chance."

He drew his bow and left fly. The arrow went little more than half
way. So Sam remarked, "Five steps up I kin go. It don't say nothing
about how long the steps?"

"No."

"Well, here goes," and he began the most wonderful Kangaroo hops that
he could do. He covered about thirty feet in those five steps, and by
swerving a little aside he got a good view of the Deer. He was now
less than sixty-five yards away. He fired and missed. Now Guy had the
right to walk up five steps. He also missed. Finally at thirty yards
Sam sent an arrow close past a tree, deep in the Deer's gray flank.

"Bully shot! Body wound! Count five for the Great War Chief. All
shooting from this spot now," said Yan, "and I don't know why I
shouldn't shoot as well as the others."

"Coz you're the Deer and that'd be suicide," was Sam's objection. "But
it's all right. You won't hit."

The objection was not sustained, and Y