"Here they come!" shouted the little miss. "And, oh, such a big deer as they have!"
"An elk, as sure as fate!" ejaculated Rodney, looking over her shoulder.
"Henry will have the horns he wanted now."
"And we need the meat," said James Morris, as he flung open the door and hurried outside. "Elk is pretty strong, I know, but it is better than no fresh meat at all. And I am tired of rabbit."
The party of hunters soon came up, and all of the others, including Mrs. Morris, surveyed the game with interest, while they listened to how the elk had been tracked and brought low.
"Certainly worth going many miles for," said James Morris. "The pelt is a fine one."
The elk was hung up out of the reach of any wild beasts that might be prowling around, and the next day Henry and Sam Barringford skinned the animal and cut up the meat as Mrs. Morris desired it. The tongue was smoked, a small part of the forequarter pickled, and the remainder kept fresh by being hung up where it was cold. That day they dined on elk steaks and all pronounced the fresh meat very acceptable.
Late in the afternoon Paul Thompson came to the cabin on horseback, bringing his wife with him.
"We were coming sooner," said the husband, "but my wife got a sore throat and I thought I had better wait until she was well again."
"I hope it is all right now," replied Mrs. Morris, as she escorted her visitors into the cabin.
"Quite well, but she mustn't expose herself too much. When I go to
Dennett's I am going to get her a mixture from the doctor."