CHAPTER III THE LUCK OF A LONG SHOT At the base of the hill crowned by the Marlow house the woods came close to the road. Years before the pines had been cut off, and in their place had come in a second growth of hard wood, scrubby, tangled and dense. On many of the trees, especially the oaks, dead leaves still were thick, affording cover for game and adding considerably to the difficulties of hunting novices. Sam climbed the fence, and plunged into the thickets to the right. It was his intention to work around the base of the hill, and thus reach the old orchard, of which Lon Gates had spoken; but he quickly discovered that the plan was more easily made than carried out. There was a good deal of underbrush, and the ground was rough, stony in places and swampy in the tiny valleys. Moreover, as he tried to advance as silently as possible, and to keep a keen, if limited, lookout, his progress was slow as well as wearisome. With all his vigilance, however, he saw nothing and heard nothing to indicate the presence of anything which would serve as target for his aim. No rabbit scurried away, and there was no whir of wings among the branches. As for deer--why, there was nothing to hint that buck or doe was to be found thereabouts. He had slipped a couple of cartridges into his gun, and felt prepared for any emergency; but an emergency declined to present itself. Even when he reached the little brook, which skirted the hill, the silence of the woods was unbroken, except by the subdued murmur of the stream. He paused for a moment, listening intently but vainly; then moved on, following the course of the brook. The going was now a trifle easier, though clumps of trees and bushes still narrowed the view. For perhaps a quarter of an hour his progress was absolutely uneventful, and unrelieved by even a false alarm. A turn in the brook warned him that he had passed the farmhouse, and was nearing the old orchard. More cautiously than ever he changed his course, and began to climb the slope on his right, the first, as he knew, of a series of low ridges. He reached its top without mishap, and halted to reconnoiter. From somewhere, afar off, the wind brought a sound to his ears, which set his pulse bounding and made him tighten his hold on his gun. It was a sound he could not mistake, faint though it was. Some other hunter had found something to fire at; perhaps the lucky fellow had sent a charge of buckshot into a deer! Just in front of Sam, and on the verge of the farther slope, was a mass of tangled bushes. He dropped to his knees, and slowly tunneled a way through the barrier. From its shelter he could look down into a ravine, beyond which rose the second ridge. For several minutes he lay motionless in his burrow, peering into the gully and straining his ears for the rustle of branches or the crack of dried twig. Once he thought he heard both from the lower ground to his left; but he could not be sure, and the disturbance was not repeated.