Mr. Doane somehow took in the situation without any explanation. Perhaps that was because he had been a boy not so very long before, and he could easily guess what hunters are apt to come upon in Turtle Cove Woods.
“He’s in there,” ventured Ranny, pointing to the hole in the rocks which had swallowed up the prize.
“You bet!” replied Tom. “He looks like a deer.”
“We’ll get him,” boasted the man with such a look of courage and determination that every boy was at once his slave with renewed, if unspoken, allegiance.
“You bet, old man,” agreed Mr. Doane. “We have one in the boat—”
“I’ll get it,” offered Arthur, but perhaps Tom thought of the lunch box, for he turned and ran along with the first messenger.
They had not yet reached the launch when a hail from Jerry brought them both to a standstill.
“Hey, wait!” he yelled, but they paid no heed to the order, for at any moment that animal might dash out of the cave and get away.
Tom climbed into the boat and Arthur followed.
“I saw the rope here—” began Tom, but Jerry was now climbing in and still saying something.
“A sandwich!” he finally managed to exclaim. “They want a sandwich.”
“I guess you won’t have any sandwich,” declared Tom, not in the most amiable tones.
“For the deer,” replied the impatient Jerry.
“A sandwich—for—a deer!” gasped Tom, pausing with a cushion in one hand and a life preserver in the other.
“Sure,” snarled Jerry. “Did you think I wanted it for myself?”
“We didn’t know,” said Tom, “but no one gets anything out of that box—”
“Oh, hey!” snarled Jerry. “Can’t you see anything? Mr. Doane wants to bait the deer with it.” His tone was scornful enough to poison the very atmosphere.
“Well, I’ll get one,” finally condescended Tom. “Glo told me to get it,” insisted the annoyed Jerry, climbing over his two companions and making his way up to the big blanket that covered the bread box.
Both boys stopped in the rope hunt to watch him.
“Be careful,” ordered Tom. “They’re each wrapped in wax paper.”
“I know,” retorted Jerry, who now actually had hold of one of the precious sandwiches and was shutting the box.
“Oh, come along,” called Tom, who had procured the rope and was scrambling out with it. “Think a wild deer is going to wait all day?” They didn’t, evidently, for Jerry held the sandwich in both hands and followed his companions up the hill, there to find the others still waiting anxiously, lined up like a guard of honor on each side of the cave.