The beast's limbs and body quivered once or twice, and then it lay very still.
Weston took out his pipe and lay down with his back against a tree, for all the power seemed to have gone out of him, and he did not seem able to think of anything.

The pipe was empty before it dawned on him that his comrade was famishing, and there was still a task in hand.

He set about it, and, though it was far from heavy, he had some difficulty in getting the dressed deer upon his shoulders.

How he reached camp with it he never knew, but he fell down several times before he did so, and the soft darkness had crept up from the valley when he staggered into the flickering glow of a fire.

His face was drawn and gray, and there was blood and soil on his tattered clothing.
He dropped the deer, and collapsed beside the fire.
"Now," he said hoarsely, "it's up to you to do the rest." Grenfell set about it in wolfish haste, hacking off great strips of flesh with patches of hide still attached to them; and it was only when he flung them half-raw out of the frying-pan that Weston roused himself.