“Besides,” added Tom, “we’ve got more meat here now than we can use in a week. No use killing for fun. I’ve got the head trophy I want, and it will be the turn of you fellows next. I won’t shoot any more deer, though I’ll bag a bear if I can. We don’t want to shoot female deer if we can help it.”
“That’s right,” agreed Jack. “Now let’s decide what to do about this fellow. He’s a big one, and will take some cutting-up.”
The boys were rather dubious about getting the deer’s head off, and taking the best part for food. But they were saved what might have been an unpleasant task by the arrival of Sam Wilson.
“Hello!” cried the guide, as he saw his young friends. “Well, you have had some luck, haven’t you! Is that your first one?”
“Yes,” answered Tom, as he related what had occurred.
“Well, now, that’s the way to do!” Sam cried. “He’s a fine critter, too; good head and horns. I’ve got my pung just outside on the road. I’ll take him along, dress him for you and send the head to an Indian to be mounted. Old Wombo does pretty good work that way.”
“I wish you would have it done,” Tom said. “And take some of the venison yourself. There’s more than we can use.”
“Besides, we’re going to get more deer in a few days,” added George.