“This is the sort of hunting I used to read about in books,” exclaimed Brick. “Four deer and a catamount. Just think of it. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find I’ve been dreaming.”
The others laughed, and Hamp playfully pinched Brick’s arm.
“We’ve got to stir ourselves now,” said Jerry. “In about an hour and a half it will be dark. The mouth of the valley will make a good camping-place, and after we’ve brought down the sleds and my deer, we’ll build a blazing fire. Then we’ll skin the wildcat, and get the deer swung up to the branches of some of these trees. We won’t do anything more to them until morning.”
“Except cut some steaks off for supper,” added Brick, in a hungry tone.
“Don’t be worried,” Jerry replied. “I’ll give you a supper fit for a king to-night.”
“But what in the world will we ever do with all this venison?” asked Hamp. “It will make an awful pile, even when it is cut up.”
“It certainly will,” admitted Jerry. “There’s only one thing to do that I can see. We’ll take what we can to Chesumcook to-morrow, and when we get a camp picked out, we’ll come back for the rest with two empty sleds.”
This sounded practical, and the matter was dropped. The boys hurried up the valley, and presently came to the deer which Jerry had shot. It was a fine, plump animal, and lay in the very center of the salt lick. Two minutes later they reached the spot where the successful hunt had been planned.
As they emerged from the bushes they made a startling and mysterious discovery. The sleds were gone.