say."

That was too much for Max. And, besides, having coaxed the whole story
from his chum now, he thought it would not matter very much if he did
indulge in a good laugh.

To his surprise Steve joined in. Evidently the realization that he had
actually helped kill a genuine five-pronged buck, fulfilling his wildest
dream, caused Steve to be less "touchy" than usual.

"But we must manage to get him home some way, Max," he remarked after a
while, when they had grown weary of admiring their prize.

"Think we could tote several hundred pounds four miles?" demanded Max.
"If it was a little doe, now, I might be willing to tie the legs along a
pole and try it; but I balk at this big chap."

"Then what shall we do?" asked Steve.

"I'm going to cut it up the best way I know how," his chum replied. "All
we want to take along is one hind quarter. Plenty on that for two meals.
And like as not we'll find the old chap pretty tough."

Accordingly the boys set to work. Steve knew next to nothing about such
things, but was willing to do whatever his comrade asked of him. And
while Max professed to be a clumsy butcher, he certainly did his work in
a way to draw out words of praise from the delighted chum.

"There, that job is done," said Max, when the sun was nearly halfway down
the western sky, "and I'm glad of it, too."