“They don’t know what is good for them, that’s why, Giant.”

The boys looked around the spring with care and made out several tracks which they thought might belong to a deer.  These led along the trail they were following, and once more the boy hunters moved on, refreshed by the rest and the lunch, and cheered by the hope that they might soon get a glimpse of the game they were after.

Less than a quarter of a mile further on they found that the trail came to an abrupt end in something of a glade at the foot of another hill.  There had been a landslide during the summer and this had obliterated the path.

“Here’s a go!” cried Whopper, gazing around in perplexity.  “I suppose old Jack Dalton didn’t know about this landslide.”

“We must be careful—–­if we go on, Whopper.  That land may give way.  We don’t want to get underground again.”

“Not much!  Once was enough.”

They walked along the hill, and at last came to something that looked a little like a trail.  Then they went forward once more, covering a good mile.  The vicinity was full of rocks, and they had to pick their way with care, for fear of tumbling down into a crevice, or twisting an ankle.

“This is growing worse, Whopper,” said Giant, coming to a halt for breath.  “I had no idea it was so rough, had you?”

“No.  One thing is certain—–­we are not on the trail.”

“Just what I was thinking.”

“We are getting deeper and deeper into this mess.  We’ll have to turn back.”

“And without that deer!  That’s too bad!”

“We may see the deer elsewhere.”

They walked on a hundred feet further, reaching an opening surrounded by rocks on every side.  Here was a tall tree, with branches hanging low to the ground.

“I’m going up into the tree and look around,” said Whopper.

He hung his rifle on one of the limbs and began the ascent.  Giant did likewise, and soon the pair were close to the top of the tree.

By parting the topmost branches they got a fairly good look of the country for a long distance on every side.  They could see the waters of Lake Cameron shimmering in one direction, and the waters of Firefly Lake shimmering in another, and they also caught several glimpses of Rocky River, and some other bodies of water still further away.

“Nothing of the deer,” sighed Whopper, after a long look around.

“Let us make sure,” came from Giant, and swept every point of the compass with his sharp eyes.

“I see something far to the north of here,” he announced.  “But what it is I can’t make out.”

Whopper looked in the direction, but could see nothing clearly.

“Something is moving among the bushes,” he said, slowly.  “It may possibly be a deer, but I doubt it.”

It was rather pleasant in the tree, and they rested near the top for some time.  Then, of a sudden, Whopper started up.