CHAPTER VIII
A PRIZE IN THE TRAP
"How's the wood supply?" asked Elmer, while preparations were going on looking to their having a generous supply of fresh venison for supper.
"Not so good as last night," replied Toby; "it's twice as hard to get, you see; but then, George has agreed to start in again later on, and pile up more stock. He certainly does swing that little hand-ax of yours to beat the band, Elmer."
"Did any of your people come from the South of Ireland, Toby?" demanded the said George; "because you've got the gift of gab down to a fine point, and know how to blarney a fellow first-class."
"But you did say you would chop a whole lot more wood," protested Toby.
"Sure I did," continued the other scout, "but it was agreed at the same time I'd spell you in the job, and bring in as much as you did. Now, since Elmer and Lil Artha have tramped so far, and lugged this splendid young buck all the way into the camp, the least the rest of us can do is to make sure of the fuel supply. And, Toby, I'm going to hold you to your word."
"Well, after we've dined perhaps I won't feel so weak as I do now, and then we'll see what's to be done," Toby acknowledged.
Elmer had made a pretty good job of cutting up the deer. It was not the first time he had had to undertake such a task; and besides, he had watched other hunters accomplish it frequently, up there in Canada on the farm and cattle range.