don't think now, do you, Max, they'd hurt those beautiful five-pronged
horns?"

"Of course not," replied the other, walking on again.

"Because we ought to get those to mount and keep in one of our rooms at
home, Max."

"Your room, Steve; you're a thousand times welcome to my share in them."

"Oh, thank you, Max, that's awful kind."

After a wearisome march they approached the cabin. It was late in the
afternoon, but no friendly smoke arose from the chimney.

The returned hunters saw this fact with astonishment.

"What does it mean!" Steve remarked, as they came to a halt and set their
burden down upon the ground.

"Hi, fellows!" called a voice.

Some one stepped out of the bushes across the little clearing and waved
his hand. It was Owen, and he seemed to be beckoning in the most
mysterious manner possible.

Max and Steve exchanged puzzled looks.

"What in the dickens is up now!" exclaimed the latter.