e'll say: 'And just to think that _you_ shot this savage old wolf
all by yourself, Step Hen; oh! what a brave fellow you are!'"

It was a second dead wolf, sure enough. The little repeating rifle had,
as usual, given a good account of itself, and the stricken beast had
only been able to drag himself a little distance away, before giving up.

Both animals were dragged over to the fires, and then Eli set to work
taking off the skins with a rapidity that told of long experience along
the trapping line.

"No use aluggin' these critters over ter the canoe, and then ter camp,"
Eli had announced. "Ther two skins'll make a purty good coat, I guess
naow. An' so ye gut a pack o' prime venison to tote home as well, hev
ye? Thet's good. My mouth's jes' made up fur a steak; an' the boys'll
feel tickled ter death when they sees yer."

Step Hen was a little nervous at leaving the fire zone, especially since
Eli and Thad insisted on putting out every spark before departing,
according to the law of the State; but then he managed to carry one
torch, and with that to serve them, they took up their line of march.

It was not so very far to the edge of the lake. Thad laughed, and said
the joke was on him; because, when they halted he really believed they
were a couple of miles away from water. If he had known the shore was so
near by he would have managed to coax the tired Step Hen to trudge on
just a little further, so as to camp with the water covering one side,
and bringing that much security; not to speak of the chances for
signaling to the home camp by means of the code which he and Allan, as
Boy Scouts, understood.

But it was all right now, and Step Hen felt quite merry over the chance
of being taken comfortably to the camp by means of the canoe.

Eli did the paddling, and the two weary lads just snuggled down in the
boat, feeling that they had had a great day of it, all told. The
presence of the venison, as well as the wolf-skins, would be positive
proof as to the reliability of their astonishing story; should there be
any skeptic around. And then Thad had the wonderful mushroomed bullet
that had killed that six-pronged buck; so that as they narrated the
first adventure that had come their way, they could produce evidence to
back up the story.

Their coming was greeted by more or less enthusiasm, although the boys
had evidently been coached by Allan not to be too vociferous, as they
were in a country where timid game abounde