"Yes!"
"Ted, I swear that you're more excited than I am!"
Ted scarcely heard. He was here, beside Glory Rock, the day after Smoky Delbert was shot. Damon and Pythias, always together, and a deer so badly wounded that it couldn't possibly go on. Damon hadn't gone on. Only Pythias had. Hurt but not mortally, he had left enough blood on the leaves to convince Ted that there'd been only one deer.
"When do you suppose he picked that one up?" John Wilson asked.
"I don't know."
Carl Thornton, who got what he wanted, had decided to get Damon and Pythias himself.
"He's darn' near as big as a horse," Wilson said.
"Sure is."
A horse, a friendly, easily caught horse, that had gone down Coon Valley that night with Damon on its back, then been released to go back up it.
"You certainly know how to field-dress a buck."