"In that case we can't reach the house to-night," said the frontiersman. "It's too late to travel nine miles with sech a load."
"Well, let us go where we left the deer. It will make a pretty fair sort of camping place," returned Dave.
Like the true woodsman that he was, Barringford carried a sharp hatchet and a strong hunting knife, and soon had a suitable bough chopped and trimmed. Then all set to work to haul the bear out of the hollow and tied him on the drag. It was hard labor and made them perspire freely regardless of the cold. A stout cord was tied to the front of the drag and the four proceeded to haul their load through and over the snow as best they could.
"I don't believe it's as cold as it was," remarked Dave, as they trudged along. "Or else this work is making me warm."
"It's moderatin' fer another fall o' snow," answered Sam Barringford. "I was calculatin' we'd git it by noon to-day."
"More snow come to-night," said White Buffalo.
"I wish it wouldn't come until after we get home," said Rodney. "This load is bad enough as it is."
It took the best part of two hours to reach the spot where the deer had been left. As they came closer a mournful howl rent the air.
"Wolves!" cried Dave. "I knew they'd be after that meat."
"Yes, but they are running away," answered Rodney. "They are not hungry enough to show fight," and he was right, as the hunters came into view the wolves lost no time in slinking out of sight, nor did they show themselves again.