Suddenly his eye became fixed on a small object protruding from behind a beech tree.
It was pointed, and in color darker than the gray bark of the beech.
It had been a very easy matter to pass over this little thing; but now that the lad saw it, he knew to what it belonged.
"That's a buck's ear," he replied.
Hardly had he finished speaking when Wetzel intentionally snapped a twig.

There was a crash and commotion in the thicket; branches moved and small saplings waved; then out into the open glade bounded a large buck with a whistle of alarm.

Throwing his rifle to a level, Joe was trying to cover the bounding deer, when the hunter struck up his piece.
"Lad, don't kill fer the sake of killin," he said, quietly.

"We have plenty of venison.

We'll go arter a buffalo.