over something, broke loose again.

"Max," he said, with a little quiver to his voice, "I noticed just now
that you said _our_ deer. Do you mean to let me claim a share in this
thing, then?"

"Why, of course," replied the other, as if in surprise; "we both shot
him. See, here's where a buckshot from your gun struck him in the side.
They must have scattered more than you thought they'd do at such a short
distance."

"Yes," said Steve; "looks like it. But, Max, it was you who killed him."

"Oh, I ended him, that's right," said Max, who was nothing if not
generous, "but only for you holding him here after wounding him, where
would I have come in? Why, I'd never have had the first sight of the
buck."

"Yes, that's so," said Steve, smiling grimly, "I _held_ him all right,
didn't I? But when he was chasing me around that old tree so lively, Max,
somehow I didn't happen to look at it that way. Fact is, I thought the
plagued buck was holding me."

"All the same," declared Max in a tone that settled it, "we got him, and
both of us gave him a chance to bleed. You weakened him at first, you
know."

"Oh, did I?" remarked Steve, feeling of his ribs, as if to make sure none
of them were broken. "Well, you see, I can't help but wonder what would
have happened to me if the old beast hadn't been weakened, just like you