“Well, such is luck,” was the reply. “Perhaps next time I’ll go and you’ll have to stay home.”
A hasty lunch was had, and in less than half an hour old Runnell, Bart, and Joe were on the way.
The track of the wolverene was plainly to be seen, and they followed it with ease over the rocks where the wind had blown a good deal of the snow away.
“Are your guns ready for use?” questioned old Runnell. “It may be that we may fall in with some other kind of game besides the wolverene.”
The weapons were in proper condition and both were held in such a fashion that they could do no harm as the party traveled along. They had now to enter the woods, with thick pines on one side and a variety of small hemlocks and scrub bushes on the other. They were going uphill, and walking at every step became more difficult.
“Here are the marks very plainly,” said Joe. “The wolverene got tired of carrying the meat and dragged it.”
“Make no more noise,” said Joel Runnell. “We may be closer to the beast nor you think.”
After that they proceeded in utter silence. The trail led around a number of pointed rocks and then among the pines.
Suddenly Joel Runnell came to a halt and motioned for the others to do likewise. Looking ahead, Joe and Bart saw a spot where the snow was much disturbed, and there lay the best part of the deer meat which had been stolen.
Crouching low, Joel Runnell began to look in among the pine trees, for he felt certain that the beast he was after could not be far away. Evidently the wolverene had been disturbed while devouring a portion of the game and had leaped out of sight among the pine branches.