The new arrival was Hero the hound. He came on the scene with a rush and proceeded straight to business.  
He did not need to pause to take in the situation, but with a faint and short he bounded for the , which did not see him until they collided. But the old fellow was game. Though he had fled in a wild panic when the baying of the dog rang through the woods, yet now that he was at bay he fought like a Trojan.
 
Realizing that it was a fight for life, he whirled about, lowered those splendid antlers and went for the like a steam engine.
 
The dog had no wish to be bored through by such formidable weapons, and, with a bark of fear, he leaped back, alert and for a chance to seize his victim by the throat.
 
Now was the time for the young hunters to put in the finishing touches, for the buck was so occupied with his new assailant that he could give them no attention.
 
Bob Budd dared not crawl from under the tree and run for his gun lying some yards away, which would have to be re-loaded before it could be of use to him.
 
But the young man was convinced that the golden opportunity for the others had arrived, and he did not hesitate to proclaim it in tones that could have been heard a half-mile off.
 
Tom Wagstaff was persuaded that he was safe so long as he remained astride of the limb where he had perched himself with such haste when the buck gave him a lively chase, and if he knew his own heart (as he was confident he did) he did not mean to from his and run the risk of being elevated or bored by the antlers of the vicious buck.
 
“By the time I can get down there and get hold of my gun he will have the dog knocked out and then he’ll start for me, and where will Ibe? No; I had enough hard work to climb up here and I’ll stay.”
 
And so, unmindful of the reproaches and appeals of the howling Bob, Tom continued to play the part of interested spectator.
 
The fight between the buck and the hound promised to be a prolonged one, though it looked as if the fine beast would have to in the end.
 
Had he been able to get the dog in a corner where he could not , it is probable he might have finished him, for one terrific of those antlers would have been enough, but the of Hero saved him each time. When the horny weapons were lowered and the buck made a rush which seemed sure to the canine, he sprang nimbly aside like a skillful sparrer, still on the alert for an opening.
 
The deer displayed an intelligence that hardly would have been expected at such a time. He avoided rearing on his legs, and trying to his assailant with his fore-paws, as he had sought to do in the case of the youngsters, for such an effort on his part would have given Hero the fatal opening he wanted. One lightning-like bound, and his sharp teeth would have closed in the throat of the buck, and there they would have stuck until he his last breath.
 
Not only that, but the hound would have kept his body out of reach of the , while, as a matter of course, the antlers would have been powerless against such a assailant.
 
It was this fact which must have been understood by the buck, that caused him to keep his head lowered and toward the hound, who, despite his rapid hither and , was unable for a time to catch him off his guard.
 
It was a forcible commentary on the and of the hunters, that there were three of them, all armed and one with both charges in his gun, and yet they dared not while the feinting and striking was going on between the dog and buck.
 
It must be borne in mind that what I am relating took place in an exceedingly brief space of time.
 
But the contest, if such it may be called, between the two animals might have continued indefinitely, so far as Bob Budd and Tom Wagstaff were concerned.
 
The latter, as I have explained, was safely perched among the branches of a tree, while his unloaded gun lay on the ground some distance away, and it was certain to lie there until the struggle between Hero and the larger animal should be settled.
 
Bob was equally positive that it was his duty to keep himself squeezed beneath the trunk of the oak, though his of the animal caused him to edge as many inches as he dared toward the opposite side.
 
As for Jim McGovern, he was in a . He was as strongly resolved as the other two to avoid any charge from the buck, reasoning that if neither of his brother was able to stay him with their loaded guns, it was improbable that he could do so with his single weapon.
 
But somehow or other he felt it upon him to make use of his gun, which he still held in hand with its two hammers raised and the triggers ready to be pressed.
 
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