So he went nearly over his last night's track. He found it
much easier to go silently now when all the world was dew wet,
and travelled quickly. Past the fateful glade he went, noted
again the tree torn several feet too high up, and on. Then the
cry of a bluejay rang out; this is often a notification of deer
at hand. It always is warning of something doing, and no wise
hunter ignores it.
Rolf stood for a moment listening and peering. He thought he
heard a scraping sound; then again the bluejay, but the former
ceased and the jay-note died in the distance. He crept
cautiously on again for a few minutes; another opening appeared.
He studied this from a hiding place; then far across he saw a
little flash near the ground. His heart gave a jump; he studied
the place, saw again the flash and then made out the head of a
deer, a doe that was lying in the long grass. The flash was made
by its ear shaking off a fly. Rolf looked to his priming, braced
himself, got fully ready, then gave a short, sharp whistle;
instantly the doe rose to her feet; then another appeared, a
sinal one; then a young buck; all stood gazing his way.
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