"Well, I guess not," replied the other, "to tell the truth, he was asking questions about getting to Faversham, and finding a couple of parties he seems to want to come up with mighty bad. But I couldn't give him much help, because you see, I've never been as far as that town; and I sure never met up with the men he described. But I promised him I'd keep my eyes open, and if so be I ran across 'em, I'd send him word, in care of a man up in Faversham named Malcolm Hotchkiss."
"Well," broke in Bumpus just then, after his usual impetuous style, "for my part, I'm believin' that they're the very two rascals Thad spoke about, hanging out in this region, and taking game out of season. And perhaps now, one of 'em even sneaked in camp when nobody was around, and got away with my bag."
He said this in a sneering way, and kept his eye fixed reproachfully on Step-hen while speaking. The other frowned, and shook his head, in a combative way.
"Of course you mean it's me that touched your old bag, Bumpus," he remarked; "but you've got another guess coming. I watched you hunting in the tent like you'd lost your head. Reckon you have, all right, because you took the wrong tent! Just step in the other one for a change, and my word for it you'll find your blessed old haversack just where you hung it!"
And Bumpus, looking rather shame-faced, did go into the second tent; to appear a moment later carrying the disputed bag in his hand, and with a rosy blush mantling his fat face.
CHAPTER XX.
DRAWING STRAWS FOR A CHANCE.
At any rate Bumpus was manly enough to do the right thing. He walked straight up to Step-hen, and held out his hand.
"I was a fool, and that's all there is about it, Step-hen," he said, frankly. "Will you shake hands with me, and excuse the blunder I made when I felt sure you had hooked the old bag, just to bother me?"