"Deer are pretty much creatures of habit. He's in that bed now because he likes it. If he doesn't become too frightened today, the chances are good, both that he'll go into the same bed tonight and that he'll do the same thing when he's flushed out of it tomorrow. Only you'll be waiting for him." John Wilson nodded. "That listens all right." "Wave your red hat when he goes," Ted directed. "I'll see that and wait for you, and we can figure our next move afterwards." Unencumbered by an older companion, Ted half-ran down the opposite slope of Hawkbill and started swiftly up Burned Mountain. He had no hope of seeing the buck, but just going to the bed where it had been lying was within itself no easy task. Viewed from the summit of Hawkbill, various parts of Burned Mountain had various distinguishing characteristics. But once on the mountain itself, everything looked alike. Ted emerged from the forest into the briers, crashed a way through them, and when he thought he was very near the place where the buck had bedded, he turned to see John Wilson waving his hat. Ted sat down for what he was sure would be a long wait. He had climbed to this place in twenty-five minutes, but he was eighteen years old. An hour later, he heard John Wilson's, "Hall-oo!" "Here!" Ted yelled. Carrying his hat, streaming perspiration, but entirely happy, John Wilson panted up to join him. "He went out," he said cheerfully, "and I'll swear he flushed no more than twenty yards ahead of you! Thought sure you'd see him." "Where'd he go?" "Quartered up the mountain and crossed the summit just a little to the right of some white birches." Ted nodded. The course described by John Wilson had kept the big buck in thick cover all the way. It was the route he might have been expected to take, except that there were a dozen others with brush just as thick. However, there was every chance that he would go the same way a second time and tomorrow morning John Wilson would be posted in the birches while Ted tried to drive the buck through. "What's it like on top?" John Wilson asked. "Patches of laurel and rhododendron. We'll go see what we can do." * * * * * That night, tired and hungry, the pair made their way down Burned Mountain. They hadn't seen the monster buck again, but were in no wise disheartened. There were twenty days of the season left and John Wilson had had, and failed to take, a chance at a very good eight-point buck. Obviously, he'd meant it when he said he wanted only the biggest. Ted prepared supper and washed the dishes afterwards.... The two hunters were sprawled in the living room when Tammie whined to announce that someone was coming. A minute later there was a knock at the door and Ted opened it to confront George Stacey. "Come on in, George." "Cain't. Gotta git home. Thought I'd stop an' tell ya that Thornton, down to Crestwood, fetched in one of them big bucks today." "He did?"