As pressed as they were for time, Darry and Joe begged that the bearskin be saved, and did all they could toward helping the old scout skin the beast. With the pelt they took along about twenty pounds of the juiciest steaks.
"It's a pity to leave the rest to the wolves!" sighed Joe. "But it can't be helped. What a feast they will have!"
"I'm going to sling the beast into a tree," replied old Benson. "That may help save it until somebody else comes this way. The soldiers from the fort use the trail yonder, you know."
Soon they were on the way to where Benson and Darry had left Joe's horse. As Joe was tired from his night's adventure, his cousin and the old scout took turns in carrying him behind them. Even then his eyes would occasionally close.
"We can't make the fort to-night, that's certain," said the old scout.
"Not if we pushed on hard?" asked Darry.
"Joe can't push on as fast as that, Darry. He'll want to rest as soon as sundown comes."
"Perhaps I can get a nap at noon, while you two get dinner ready," suggested Joe. "I wonder if we'll meet those rascals anywhere on the road? I hope not, for they'd be certain to recognize me."
"We'll keep an eye open for 'em," responded Benson dryly. "And see to it that your shooting-irons are ready for use."
"Why—do you think they'd attack us?" asked Darry quickly.