Atkinson told us what a good time he had with you, but we were a trifle astonished to see the fine wapiti head he brought back with him." There was a faint twinkle in the speaker's eyes which Alton understood, for Atkinson, who was not an adept at trailing deer, had shot more than a wapiti.

Still, he was not the man to allude to the misadventures of his guest.
"He killed it neatly--a good hundred yards, and in the fern," he said.
"Well," said Thorne with a little laugh, "you were with him, and know best.

You had, however, a tolerably mixed bag on that occasion ?" Alton checked a smile.

"A wapiti, a wood deer--and sundries." Thorne laughed again.

"I wonder if you have forgotten the hog?
You see, Atkinson told us one night at mess, and I was inclined to fancy he came near including you in the bag." Alton's face was suspiciously grave, but his answer strengthened the incipient friendship between the men.
"It is a little difficult for a stranger to distinguish things in the bush." Thorne nodded.