his every move. Just now he
could not see even a little red squirrel. Everywhere were sturdy
hickory and oak trees, thickets and hazelnuts, slender ash saplings,
and, in the open glades, patches of sumach. Rotting trees lay on the
ground, while ferns nodded long, slender heads over the fallen
monarchs. Joe could make out nothing but the colors of the woods,
the gray of the tree trunks, and, in the openings through the
forest-green, the dead purple haze of forests farther on. He smiled,
and, shaking his head at the hunter, by his action admitted failure.

"Try again. Dead ahead," whispered Wetzel.

Joe bent a direct gaze on the clump of sassafras one hundred feet
ahead. He searched the open places, the shadows--even the branches.
Then he turned his eyes slowly to the right. Whatever was
discernible to human vision he studied intently. Suddenly his eye
became fixed on a small object protruding from behind a beech tree.
It was pointed, and in color darker than the gray bark of the beech.
It had been a very easy matter to pass over this little thing; but
now that the lad saw it, he knew to what it belonged.

"That's a buck's ear," he replied.

Hardly had he finished speaking when Wetzel intentionally snapped a
twig. There was a crash and commotion in the thicket; branches moved
and small saplings waved; then out into the open glade bounded a
large buck with a whistle of alarm. Throwing his rifle to a level,
Joe was trying to cover the bounding deer, when the hunter struck up
his piece.

"Lad, don't kill fer the sake of killin," he said, quietly. "We have
plenty of venison. We'll go arter a buffalo. I hev a hankerin' fer a
good rump steak."

Half an hour later, the hunters emerged from the forest into a wide
plain of waving grass. It was a kind of oval valley, encircled by
hills, and had been at one time, perhaps, covered with water. Joe
saw a herd of large animals browsing, like cattle, in a meadow. His
heart beat high, for until that moment the only buffalo he had seen
were the few which stood on the river banks as the raft passed down
the Ohio. He would surely get a shot at one of these huge fellows.

Wetzel bade Joe do exactly as he did, whereupon he dropped on his
hands and knees and began to crawl through the long grass. This was
easy for the hunter, but very bard for the lad to accomplish. Still,
he managed to keep his comrade in sight, which was a matter for
congratulation, because the man crawled as fast as