in such critical moments events come and go with startling rapidity.

bob budd was never in greater peril than when fleeing from the enraged buck that was determined to kill him. it was not only able to run much faster than he, but he was practically powerless to defend himself, since his gun was empty, and though he might face about and deliver one blow, it could effect nothing in the way of slaying or checking the animal.

in his terror the fugitive did the best thing possible without knowing it.

he caught sight of a large oak that had been blown down by some violent gale, the trunk near the base being against the ground, which sloped gradually upward and away from the earth to the top, which was fully a dozen feet high, held in place by the large limbs bent and partly broken beneath.

without seeing how this shelter was to prove of any help to him, he ran desperately for it.

fortunately it was but a short distance off, or he never would have lived to reach it.

as it was, at the moment he gathered himself to spring upon the sloping trunk the pursuing buck reached and gave him a lift, which accomplished more than the fugitive wished, for instead of landing upon the trunk, he was boosted clean over, and fell on the other side.

striking on his hands and knees, with his gun flying a rod from him, bob crawled back under the tree, where he crouched in mortal terror.

the animal stopped short, and, rearing on his hind legs, brought his front hoofs together, and banged them downward with such force that they sank to the fetlocks into the earth.

his intention was to deliver this fearful blow upon the body of the boy, and had he succeeded in doing so it would have gashed his body as fatally as the downward sweep of a guillotine.

the interposition of the trunk saved bob, but so close was the call that the sharp hoofs grazed his clothing.

in his panic lest the infuriated beast should reach him, bob scrambled through so far that he passed from under the sheltering tree.

quick to see his mistake, the buck leaped lightly over the prostrate trunk, and, landing on the other side, again rose on his hind legs, placed his front hoofs together and brought them down with the same terrific force as before.

bob’s escape this time was still narrower, for his coat was cut by the knife-like hoofs, which shaved off several pieces of the shaggy bark.

but the young hunter kept moving and scrambled out of reach from that side just in the nick of time.

the buck bounded over again, but bob was quick to see his mistake, and now shrank into the closest quarters possible, taking care that the solid roof covered him.

then he forced his body toward the base of the leaning tree, until the narrowing space permitted him to go no further, and he was so compressed that he could hardly breathe.

meanwhile he did not forget to use his lungs.

“tom! jim! hurry up or i’m lost! where are you? come, quick, i tell you! the buck is killing me!”

the frantic appeal reached the ears it was intended for, and the two other piketon rangers dashed toward the spot, though not without misgiving, for the wild cries of their imperiled comrade warned them of the likelihood of running into danger themselves, and neither was ready to go to that extent to save their leader.

tom wagstaff was the first to reach the spot, and he paused for a moment, bewildered by the scene.

he saw the buck bounding back and forth over the tree, rising on his hind legs and bringing down his front hoofs with vicious force, occasionally lowering his antlers as he endeavored to force the fugitive out of his refuge.

at the first tom could not locate bob, whom he expected to see standing on his feet, braced against a tree and swinging his clubbed gun with all the power at his command.

the frantic shouts, however, enabled him to discover his friend, and he called back:

“keep up courage, old fellow! i’m here, and will give the beast his finishing touch!”

the exasperating buck fever had vanished, and tom’s nerves were as steady as could be wished, though he was naturally flustered by the stirring situation.

bringing his gun to his shoulder, he aimed directly at the beast, which could not have offered a better target, and pulled both triggers.

but no report followed.

“confound it!” he muttered, “i forgot that the old thing wasn’t loaded! can’t you stay there, bob, for a day or two, till i go down to piketon and bring forty or fifty people to pull you out?”

“no; i’ll be killed,” called back the furious bob; “the buck will get at me in a minute more!”

“all right—”

“no, it aint; it’s all wrong!” interrupted the terrified lad; “load your gun as quick as you can and shoot him!”

“that’s what i’m trying to do—good-bye!”

at that juncture the buck seemed to decide there was a better chance of reaching tom than there was of getting at bob, so leaving him alone for the moment, he rushed at the former.

it was the sudden awakening to this fact which caused tom to bid his comrade a hasty farewell and to take to his heels.

“i don’t think an empty gun is much good to a fellow,” said tom, throwing it aside as he fled with great speed.

it was tom’s extremely good fortune that when he set on his frenzied flight he had a much better start than bob budd, and he knew enough to turn it to good account.

heading straight for the nearest tree, he ran under it, making at the same moment the most tremendous bound of which he was capable.

this leap enabled him to grasp one of the lower limbs with both hands and to draw himself up out of reach at the moment the buck thundered beneath.

“i wonder whether a deer can climb a tree,” was the shuddering thought of the fellow, as he looked downward at the animal from which he had just had such a narrow escape; “’cause if he can, i’m in a bad box; i wish he would go back to bob.”

and that is precisely what the buck did do.

quick to perceive that the second lad was beyond his reach, he wheeled about and trotted to the fallen tree.

poor bob, when he perceived the animal making after tom, thought his relief had come, and began backing out from under the trunk of the oak.

he had barely time to free himself from the shaggy roof, when he looked around and saw that the buck was coming again.

“hangnation! why don’t he let me alone?” he growled, and, it is safe to say, he never scrambled under shelter with such celerity in all his life.

quick as he was, he was not an instant too soon, for once more the sharp hoofs came within a hair of cutting their way through his shoulder.

but so long as he shrank into the smallest possible space beneath the oak he was safe, though he felt anything but comfortable with the buck making such desperate efforts to reach him.

“where the mischief is jim?” growled bob, who had just cause to complain of the dilatoriness of his companion; “why don’t he come forward and help us out?”

jim mcgovern had not been idle. he was the only member of the piketon rangers that had a loaded gun at command, and when he heard the appeal of bob budd he hurried from his station to his help.

but, as i have intimated, there was no member of that precious band that thought enough of the others to risk his life to help him, and jim, it may be said, felt his way.

instead of dashing forward like tom, who was ignorant of the combativeness sometimes displayed by a wounded buck, he moved cautiously until he caught sight of the respective parties without exposing himself to the fury of the wounded animal.

jim arrived at the moment the beast made for tom, and the sight alarmed him.

“what’s the use of a fellow getting killed just to do a favor for some one that wouldn’t do as much for you?” was the thought that held the chivalrous young man motionless, when he ought to have rushed forward to the defense of bob budd.

“great cæsar!” muttered jim, shrinking behind the tree which he was using for a concealment, “i never knew that a buck was such a savage animal; he’s worse than a royal bengal tiger that’s been robbed of its young ones.”

but jim had a good double-barrelled gun in his hands, and he was so close to the buck that it seemed to him he ought to be able to riddle him with shot. besides, jim had not a particle of the buck fever which incapacitated tom, but which does not attack every amateur hunter.

“the best thing i can do is to climb this tree,” he added, looking upward at the limbs, “and then if i miss, why the buck can’t get at me, for he don’t look as though he’s built for climbing trees.”

at this juncture the buck was on the further side of the prostrate oak, trying to root out bob from his shelter. since he could not reach him with his hoofs, he seemed to believe that a vigorous use of his antlers would accomplish his purpose.

it looked as if he was about to succeed, for one of the blunt points gave bob such a vigorous punch in his side that he howled with terror.

at the same moment, while staring about as best he could for the tardy jim, he caught sight of his white face peering around the tree behind which he stood.

“why don’t you shoot, jim?” he yelled; “do you want to see me killed? the buck is ramming his antlers into my side! the next punch he gives me they will go clean through.”

at this instant another party arrived on the scene.