Ted grinned sympathetically. "You're up it now, and we can see what there is to be seen." Ted buttoned his jacket. The weather was unseasonably warm, but here on Hawkbill's summit, little fingers of cold that probed at his exposed nose and throat told of chillier things to come. While the temperature made no difference, snow would increase their chances a hundred per cent. He studied Burned Mountain. Spread out in a thin skirmish line, a party of red-clad hunters were about halfway up it. A deer fled before one of them and the man stopped to raise his rifle. There sounded the weapon's sharp bark, but the deer ran on and disappeared in some brush. John Wilson said, "He should have had that one with a slingshot." "Wonder if he could tell whether it was a buck or doe. I--There he is!" "There who is?" "One of those big bucks! See him?" "No." "A quarter of the way below the summit. Look a hundred yards to the right of that light-colored patch of ground and thirty yards down slope." "I still don't--Oh, my gosh!" He uncased his binoculars, put them to his eyes, focused and stared for a full three minutes. When he took the glasses down, there was a gleam of purest ecstasy in his eyes and at the same time a little awe. "There isn't a buck that big!" he murmured breathlessly. "Look again," Ted invited. "Wonder where the dickens the other one is." He searched the briers, a little puzzled. Damon and Pythias were known as such because, except during the rutting season, they were never far apart. But definitely only one of the two huge deer was on Burned Mountain now. It was very unusual. Ted shrugged. There was no unchangeable rule that said the two big bucks must always be together. Maybe the sound of shooting or the hunters going into the woods had caused them to separate, or perhaps they had parted for reasons of their own. The shooting continued spasmodically, and not too far away came the outlandish cacophony of shrieks and shouts that meant a hunting party was staging a deer drive. A thin voice screamed, "He's coming your way, Harvey!" As Ted continued to watch the big buck, John Wilson became restless. "Let's go after him." "Wait a bit," Ted advised. "It isn't going to be that easy." The climbing hunters, about a hundred and fifty yards apart, broke out of the forest and into the briers. Two of them were so placed that, unless he moved, they would pass the big buck at almost equal distances. But the buck let them pass without so much as flicking an ear. He knew very well exactly where both hunters were, but he was no fawn to panic because men were in the woods. The buck had a good hiding place, knew it, and he had eluded hunters this time merely by doing nothing. "He's smart, all right." John Wilson had appreciated the strategy, too. "What do you suggest, Ted?" "I'm going over to flush him out. You stay here and let me know what he does." "But--What good will that do?"