Leaving Andrews and Colette to watch the game, Dale, accompanied by Owen, walked back to camp, where he had his wound washed and dressed. The cut was a clean one, for which the young lumberman was thankful. Some salve was put on it; and in the course of a couple of weeks the spot was almost as well as ever. The shots had been heard by a number of the other lumbermen, and a dozen gathered around and walked to the gully to look at the moose. It was certainly a fine creature, with a noble pair of antlers. "If nobody comes to claim that carcass you've got somethin' worth having," was old Winthrop's comment. "But some hunter will be along soon, don't ye worry." Yet, strange to say, no one came to put in a claim, and a few hours later the moose was placed on a drag and taken to camp. All the men had a grand feast on the meat, and the antlers and pelt were sold at a fair price to a trader who happened to come that way. The total amount was put into the cigar box by Owen. "For it belongs to Dale as much as myself," said Owen. Jean Colette claimed nothing, for he knew that his bird-shot had had little effect on the moose. Dale was afraid that he would run behind the others in work because of his wound. But such was not the case, for the day after the encounter at the ridge it began to snow and blow at a furious rate, so that none of the loggers could go out. The time was spent mostly indoors or at the stables where the ten horses belonging to the camp were kept. The men were never very idle, for they had their own mending to do and often their own washing. The days, too, were short, and the majority of the hands retired to their bunks as soon as it grew dark. "This weather will bring out the sleds," observed Owen. "I guess Mr. Paxton will give orders to carry logs as soon as it clears off." The camp boasted of four long, low double-runner sleds. These were driven by two Canadians and two Scotchmen, all expert at getting a load of logs over the uneven ground without spilling them. The horses were intelligent animals, used to logging, and would haul with all their might and main when required. Owen was right; the sleds were brought out on the first clear day, and while the majority of the men continued to cut logs, some were set to work to make a road down to the pond and others were set at the task of loading the logs ready for transportation. Dale had already put in a week or two at swamping, and now he and Andrews were detailed to fix a bit of the road that ran around a hilltop overlooking the stream far below. Near this spot was a long sweep of fairly even ground, sloping gradually toward the watercourse, and Joel Winthrop had an idea that many logs could be rolled to the bottom without the trouble of loading and chaining them on the sleds. "Such a method will certainly save a lot of trouble," said Andrews, as he went out with Dale. "But the men below want to stand from under when the logs come down."