I could
see nothing but two burning eyes with white rings round them."
"Stuff!" was the American's answer. "He was gazing at the jack, not at
you. He couldn't see an inch of you with that light just over your head.
But it would have been a hard shot anyhow, for his nose was towards you,
and ten to one you'd have made a clean miss."
"Well," he added, after five minutes of acute listening, "I guess we may
give over jacking for to-night. That first cry of yours was enough to
set a regiment of deer scampering. I'm only half mad after all at your
losing a chance at such a splendid buck. It was something to see him as
he stooped to drink in the glare of the jack, a midnight forest picture
such as one wants to remember. Long may he flourish! We wouldn't have
started out to rid him of his glorious life if we weren't half-starved
on flapjacks and ends of pork. Let's get back to camp! I guess you felt
a few new sensations to-night, eh, Neal Farrar?"
CHAPTER II.
A SPILL-OUT.
Indeed, shocks and sensations seemed to ride rampant that night in
endless succession; a fact which Neal presently realized, as does every
daring young fellow who visits the Maine wilderness for the first time,
whatever be his object.
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