He was looking at live deer, and nothing else. Still keeping his gaze fixed upon the animals, he moved along the trail about ten yards further; and, when he had taken an extra cartridge from his belt, he faced about and walked back, at the same time drawing the rifle to his face. He kept the weapon directed toward the top of the ridge; and, when the muzzle of it came within range of that clear space in the bushes, he pressed the trigger. An instant afterward there was a great commotion behind the thicket. A cloud of snow and deep leaves flew into the air, raised by the doe as she bounded high in her tracks and sought safety in flight, and by the hind feet of the buck, which, giving one convulsive spring, came crashing through the tops of the bushes, and rolled down the bluff, landing in a heap almost at the feet of the hunter, who jumped quickly to one side to avoid the blows from the sharp little hoofs that were flourished so spitefully in the air. But his struggles did not long continue. He was hard hit; and, by the time Oscar had thrown the empty shell out of his rifle and put in the cartridge he held in his hand, the buck was stone dead. The report of his gun awoke a thousand echoes, which reverberated among the rocks and gorges until it seemed as if a dozen answering shots were coming from as many different points of the compass, and fell upon the ears of a man who, carrying his rifle at a trail, moving with long, swinging strides, and keeping his eyes fastened upon the tracks in the snow, was making his way through a dense thicket a quarter of a mile distant. He stopped suddenly when he heard it; and, having made sure of the direction from which the report came, he uttered an exclamation indicative of astonishment and anger; and, turning short off from the trail, ran at the top of his speed toward the valley. Arriving at the edge of the timber, he peeped cautiously through the bushes, and saw Oscar standing below him, leaning on his rifle and looking at the prize he had secured. The hunter either recognized in him somebody against whom he held a grudge, or else he was enraged over the loss of the game he had so long and perseveringly followed; for he raised his rifle to his face and pointed it at the boy as if he had half a mind to drop him as Oscar had dropped the mule-deer. It was probable, however, that he had no such intention, for he did not cock his gun. He was only acting out in pantomime what he would have been glad to do in reality, if he had not been afraid of the consequences. Just then Oscar raised his head and set up a shout that once more put the echoes at work among the hills. The sound seemed to startle the concealed hunter, for he straightened up quickly and cast suspicious glances behind and on both sides of him, at the same time straining his ears to catch the reply, if any were given.