“Don’t!” she cried, in tears. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Never mind!” he replied, almost gently. “But we’ll deny ourselves the grouse.”
“Yes, it’s got to be the deer. I’ll begin now.”
“No, there’s something else that must be done first.”
“What is it?”
“We’ve got to move.”
“For shelter, you mean?”
“Partly. But look there!”
He pointed to the dead body of Trixy.
“It will be easier––and perhaps even nicer––to move me than poor Trixy. See that big pine yonder––the one that stands out from the forest? Well, you and Tuesday must drag me there.”