"Oh, you did about as well as I did, Dave," was the modest rejoinder. "But this is a prime haul, no use of talking. Mother will be tickled to death."
"I reckon we'll all be pleased—we haven't had deer meat for some time. But we're going to have some work getting these two carcasses home. No use of trying to get those other deer, is there?"
"Use? Not much! Why that old buck must be about two or three miles away by this time. Say, he was a big fellow, wasn't he? I should like to have had those horns, but I knew there was no use in fetching him down,—his meat would be too tough and strong."
"I fancy the best we can do is to make a drag for each deer and each pull his own load home," went on Dave. "If we leave one here the wolves and foxes will soon finish the meat."
"Yes, that's the only way. And we might as well hurry, for it is getting late and it will take us a good three hours to get back with such loads."
They were soon at work, Henry with his hunting knife and Dave with his pocket blade, cutting down some long, pliable brushwood which would make excellent drags for both loads. Their good luck put each in good humor, and as he worked Dave could not refrain from whistling, his favorite airs,
