They continued on for some time longer; but from the increasing puffing and grunting that came from the region where Step Hen was staggering along, it was evident that he was about ready to give up.
“Thad!” he gasped, presently.
“Yes, what is it, Step Hen?”
“Here’s a tree,” remarked the other; “I mean one that’s got limbs near the ground, and not like these other tall ghostly pines that I’d need a lineman’s spurs to shin up.”
Thad stopped for a minute.
“Well, if you can’t walk on any further, Step Hen, say so, and I’ll get up something that ought to keep the wolves away; but of course, if you’re ready to call quits, why I suppose we’ll have to climb up here, and squat like a couple of owls all night.”
The prospect evidently did not please Step Hen any too well; besides, he still retained a shred of his former pride. So he bristled up as he made answer, saying:
“Why, of course I c’n go on for quite a distance yet, if you think there’s any use of it, Thad. Now, what was you agoin’ to do, you said?”
“Under this pine tree, you see, that’s been badly used in some storm, there are a lot of branches lying. We can knock off a couple of the ones that look like they might burn pretty well, and use ’em for torches. Let’s get busy and see if it’ll work.”
At any rate it gave Step Hen another chance to rest up, and get his breath. He still clung to that heavy deer’s head with its antlers. Step Hen could be a most obstinate fellow when he chose; and having once made up his mind, it was like trying to move the rock of Gibraltar to change it.