But somehow this did not come to pass. Either the buck failed to grasp the full nature of the disaster that had befallen his little family; or else, catching a whiff of human foes about that time, fear had dominated valor. At any rate he sped out of sight, with the frightened doe ahead of him--at least the buck was gallant enough to hang back, and protect the rear. Roger went as fast as he could toward the fallen calf, pleased to know that he had been so successful in his little hunt, and that they would have fresh meat for some time to come. As he ran he seemed to understand, as though through instinct, that there was some one else pushing ahead on one side of him; but, being in such desperate haste to plant a foot on the fallen game first, he could not even take the time to look. He heard a distant whoop from Dick, which, however, fell on deaf ears if it was intended as a warning. Roger was an obstinate boy, and, having taken a notion to accomplish a certain thing, he could not be easily discouraged or influenced to give up his design. There the young elk lay, and in plain sight, so that, rushing up, Roger had no difficulty in placing his right foot on the still quivering body, by that act making it known to whoever disputed his claim that he intended to stand by his rights. It happened that the animal had fallen so that its wounded side lay uppermost, and one of the first things the young hunter noticed was the fact that there were _two_ arrows deeply imbedded there; his own well-known eagle-feathered shaft, and one that had the token of the gray goose fastened to its end in a peculiar circling manner, calculated to influence its steadiness of flight. Then, casting his eyes up, Roger saw the figure of his rival--apparently an Indian, though dressed in tanned buckskin after the manner of white hunters, and gripping a bow in his left hand. The other was staring hard at the boy, as though astounded to find himself face to face with a young paleface, never before known in this particular section. And there they stood, each with a foot advanced, and a look of defiance on their faces, as though ready to dispute title to the possession of the dead elk. CHAPTER XI "ALL, OR NONE!" "GAME mine!" When the dark-faced man in the fringed buckskin said these two words in an angry tone, Roger felt something of a shock. He looked closer, and realized that possibly the other hunter might _not_ be an Indian after all, but one of those half-breeds who sometimes made their homes with the tribes, and again sought the company of the whites, either English or French. "Oh! is that so?" the boy answered back, in a satirical tone; "well, just prove it to me then, and I'll throw up my claim."