Sam nodded. He knew something of Mr. Marlow’s habit of taciturnity. Doubter though he might be, the prospect was brightening. He had heard old hunters tell stories of cases in which deer had been killed almost in the outskirts of the village, while sportsmen ranging farther afield had been rewarded with sight of neither buck nor doe. “Well, I suppose I might as well have a look,” he said not too graciously. “Of course you might!” Sam took a step toward the house. “Of course, with my luck----” “Oh, you never can tell,” Lon reminded him. “Still, I might as well be wasting time that way as any other,” said Sam sourly, and quickened his pace. “Don’t forget to tell your mother!” Lon called after him. Sam waved a hand in reply, and went on to the house. CHAPTER II SAM TAKES CHANCES In simple fairness it should be said that Sam Parker meditated no breach of parental authority. Indeed, as he was permitted to own a little rifle, and to hunt for small game, it was possible that no serious objection would have been raised to his quest for deer, though there might have been scant faith in his success. But Sam, as it was fated, was not to secure permission for his expedition. Mrs. Parker was not in the dining-room. Sam saw that the room was unoccupied, and went on to the library. It, too, failed to reward him for his search. So did the living-room. He strode into the hall, and took station by the foot of the stairs. “Mother! Oh, Mother!” he called. “Say, Mother! Mother!” There was no reply from above stairs or below. “But I say, Mother!” His voice rose shrilly in his impatience. “Where are you? Oh, Ma, Ma, Ma!” A door at the back of the hall opened, but the head which appeared was that of Maggie. “Don’t make such a racket, Sam!” she cautioned. “What do you want, anyway?” “Where’s Mother? I’ve got to see her--right off!” “Well, she ain’t here.” “Why not?” demanded the boy hotly. Maggie tossed her head. “Because she can’t very well be in two places at once. And she’s run over to see Mis’ Lake for a minute.” Sam stamped his foot. “Minute--nothing! I know what that means. She’ll stay half an hour.” “Well, why shouldn’t she, if she wants to?” said Maggie coolly. And then, being busy, she closed the door and went back to her work. Sam scowled; hesitated briefly; reached resolution; marched into the library. His little rifle stood in its appointed place against the wall, beside his father’s double-barreled gun. “The armory corner” of the library was a family joke; for though Sam’s rifle was frequently in use, the shotgun had not been taken out of the room in years. It was a fine weapon, of a noted make, and highly prized by its owner, who, however, had not hunted for many seasons; though regularly he planned expeditions in the woods, and bought a fresh stock of ammunition.