Yet the lumbermen did not dress as warmly when working as one might suppose. A heavy woolen shirt, heavy trousers, strong boots, and a thick cap was the simple outfit of more than one, and even Dale and Owen rarely wore their coats.
"Swinging an ax warms me, no matter how low the glass is," said Owen. "And I haven't got to pile any liquor in me either."
Often, while deep in the woods, the two young lumbermen would catch sight of a wolf or a fox, attracted to the neighborhood by the smell of the camp cooking. But though the beasts were hungry they knew enough to keep their distance.
"But I don't like them so close to me," said Owen. "After this I'm going to take my gun to work with me," and he did, and Dale took with him a double-barrelled pistol left to him by his father. Some of the others also went armed, and one man brought in a small deer from up the river, which gave all hands on the following Sunday a dinner of venison—quite a relief from the rather wearisome pork and beans, or corned beef, cabbage, and onions.
"To bring down a deer would just suit me," said Dale.
"Just wait, your chance may come yet," answered Owen, but he never dreamed of what was really in store for them.
It was a bitter-cold day in November that found the pair working on something of a ridge, where stood a dozen or more pines of extra-large growth. Each worked at a tree by himself, while Andrews and Jean Colette were some distance away, working in the spruces.
"Hark!" cried Dale presently. "Did you hear that?"
"It was a gun shot, wasn't it?" questioned Owen, as he stopped chopping.
"Yes. There goes another shot. Do you suppose one of the men are after another deer?"