"That's right, we will," assented the other, "and for every tumble like that I promise myself an additional chunk of deer meat for supper. Another thing, Elmer, we ought to remember; the heavier the game the more grub we'll have."
"You know how to see the bright side of things, Lil Artha," Elmer told him.
"Oh! anybody can when success comes along. It takes fellows like you to keep smiling when things are going wrong all around. But I've learned a lesson, Elmer, and after this I won't despair, no matter how dark the clouds look."
"If one deer can reform a scout, what would big game like an elephant do?" asked Elmer, "but then again I'm a little sorry too, Lil Artha."
"What for?" demanded the panting hunter who held up the other end of the pole that bent under the weight of the suspended game.
"We won't have that chance to settle whether the Indians knew a good thing when they said musquash was better than 'coon or 'possum, or even rabbit stew!"
"Gosh! don't waste a tear over that, Elmer. Besides, while we're up here with Uncle Caleb, like as not we'll have plenty of chances to give that dish a try. But honest to goodness, it doesn't seem to strike me just as much as it did before I cracked over this bully young buck for you said it was a fairly young one, and ought to eat tender enough."
"I guess that's only natural," the scout master told him. "While we were facing starvation, why stewed musquash sounded right good to us; but with a whole carcass of venison on our hands it's plain muskrat again; and there you are, Lil Artha."
"How d'ye think we're getting along by now?" asked the tall scout with a little vein of entreaty in his voice.
"Oh! perhaps half-way there, more or less," came the reply.