"We can take turns carrying the hind quarter," remarked Steve, hefting
it; "after all, it doesn't seem so very heavy."

"I'm going to wrap it in the skin, which I removed the first thing," Max
continued.

"But it's too bad to leave all the rest of our fine buck," sighed Steve.

"Oh, don't think I mean to let the foxes and other animals make way with
the rest of the venison! I've got this rope here around my waist; you
know it comes in handy sometimes."

Steve laughed.

"For pulling silly fellows out of quicksand and bog holes," he remarked.
"Oh, yes, don't think I've forgotten what happened in that Great Dismal
Swamp. But do you mean to yank the carcass up in a tree, Max? Is that the
way you expect to use the rope?"

Max nodded in reply.

They soon accomplished this.

Max seemed to know just how to go about it, and presently the balance of
the deer swung there in space, six feet or more from the ground, and as
many below the strong limb over which the rope had been thrown.

"Think it'll be safe, do you?" asked Steve, puffing from the exertion of
pulling such a weight upward.