"You are welcome to it, cowboy," Jim muttered. "Thought I was on rattlesnakes for sure."

"From the looks of the sky, I'd say it is about three‑thirty, Jim."

"We're going to freeze our balls off before daybreak."

"Realize that. Last time I will depend on you packing," Charles Ray muttered patiently. He was a diplomat in training to take over his father's job.

"Why don't you have your wristwatch, rich boy?" Jim rubbed in his companion's exalted position in life. Charles Ray was son of the president of Crawfordsville's only bank.

"Must have left it on top of my locker when I took a shower."

"Guess we better be quiet, or we will scare away every deer in the county," Jim warned.

"You are right." Afterwards they did not say another word until they shot their first deer at sunrise.

Both huddled in one blanket while they froze waiting for daylight to come.

There was something about being on a deer lease before sunup that made every bush and tree look like a deer with at least six points to its antlers. They did not have a doe permit so they had to see the antlers.

At last when enough daylight came so they could see the dim shape of a buck feeding in with a herd of six doe, Jim said, "You take him. You don't have to squint your eye to sight."