He had shot two deer, a "cooney" and an
"isaacer"--that is, a doe and a buck--and he had their warm, bloody
skins on his back. He said that there were plenty of deer over there,
and to-morrow we would move the camp up to that spot. So we put the
skins and some tenderloin in a cairn, and covered it up with heavy
stones, and after eating some of the raw tenderloin we started for
home. It was long after dark when we reached there, and I was glad to
find Sam's tupic already up, with his old father and young mother, and
my blankets and a little package of salt, which I had missed very much
while eating so much raw meat.
The next day we broke camp at an early hour, and moved bag, and
baggage, to the place where "Alex Taylor" had shot the deer the
preceding afternoon. Notwithstanding my sore feet and tired limbs,
I took a load on my shoulders out of sheer shame, for without that
I would have been the only one, old or young, biped or quadruped,
without something, so I made a martyr of myself. Just after leaving the
spot where "Alex" and I had cached the skins yesterday afternoon, "Sam"
dropped his burden from his shoulders, grasped his rifle, and, with the
single word "tuk-too," started over the country on a run. Three others
joined him, and the rest of us kept on until we reached the lake, where
our new camp was to be located.
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