Part 10 (2/2)
”Oh, yes, don't think I've forgotten what happened in that Great Dismal Swamp. But do you mean to yank the carca.s.s up in a tree, Max? Is that the way you expect to use the rope?”
Max nodded in reply.
They soon accomplished this.
Max seemed to know just how to go about it, and presently the balance of the deer swung there in s.p.a.ce, six feet or more from the ground, and as many below the strong limb over which the rope had been thrown.
”Think it'll be safe, do you?” asked Steve, puffing from the exertion of pulling such a weight upward.
”From every kind of animal but a bobcat. If one of that tribe happens along and is hungry, of course he could drop down on the upper part and munch away,” was the reply Max made.
”Which happens to be the fore quarters of the buck, the part we don't care about so much,” said Steve.
”Oh, I had that in mind when I fixed the rope, Steve.”
”I might have guessed it, because you're always thinking ahead, Max. And shall we start for home now?”
”Shortly. Let's get rested a bit more. And I want to fix directions straight in my mind so we'll hit the cabin first shot,” Max answered.
”Four miles, you said, didn't you?” Steve asked, with a big sigh; for now that the excitement was over he began to feel tired again.
”That's what Uncle Jim said,” remarked Max.
After a while they started on their way and trudged along nearly two miles in silence, Steve insisting on sharing the load, which Max had made possible by fastening the venison to a pole, so that each could grasp it.
”Max,” said Steve about this time.
”Yes, what is it?” replied the other, as they changed places.
”Catamounts and lynx and bobcats like fresh meat, of course; but you don't think now, do you, Max, they'd hurt those beautiful five-p.r.o.nged horns?”
”Of course not,” replied the other, walking on again.
”Because we ought to get those to mount and keep in one of our rooms at home, Max.”
”Your room, Steve; you're a thousand times welcome to my share in them.”
”Oh, thank you, Max, that's awful kind.”
After a wearisome march they approached the cabin. It was late in the afternoon, but no friendly smoke arose from the chimney.
The returned hunters saw this fact with astonishment.
”What does it mean!” Steve remarked, as they came to a halt and set their burden down upon the ground.
”Hi, fellows!” called a voice.
Some one stepped out of the bushes across the little clearing and waved his hand. It was Owen, and he seemed to be beckoning in the most mysterious manner possible.
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