Jim was looking a little “peaked,” nor could Thad blame him, after hearing what a terror this Caleb Martin had been in the community for years; and how even the officers of the law had never as yet dared arrest him, even though there were rewards out for each one of the three men.
“Naw, we don’t turn back, if I knows it,” said Jim, doggedly.
“Bully for you, Jim!” exclaimed Step Hen, eagerly. “There’s eight of us, all told, in the party, and I think for my part that it’s a pretty howd’yedo now if we can’t stand up for our rights against just three cowards. I call them that because all bullies are, when you come right down to it. My father says so; and I’ve seen it among the boys in school.”
“Yes, Jim,” remarked Bumpus, with a grand air, though he immediately made a grimace, as a quick movement gave his sore shoulder a wrench; “we’re going to stand by you, through thick and thin, ain’t we, fellers?”
“Eight guns in the crowd!” remarked Davy Jones with an air of confidence. “Sure we ought to hold the fort, and then some, if deadly weapons count for anything up here, and I’m told they do. P’raps, instead of pinning your ears to a tree, Jim, this same Mister Cale’ll consent to walk back with us, and give himself up to a game warden of the great and glorious State of Maine. We mustn’t forget that we’re all sworn-in officers of the said State, and bound to assist any game warden who is trying to do his duty, and earn his salary.”
Presently the other guide said good-bye, and turning his canoe down-stream, shot away with the current; while the scouts headed up further toward the wilderness that lay around the country of the Eagle chain of lakes, close to the northern border of the State.
They landed presently to have a bite at noon. Thad took advantage of the opportunity to look at Bumpus’ shoulder. As he anticipated, he found that there was quite an ugly black-and-blue bruise there, which would cause the boy considerable pain for several days; though he declared that nothing was going to keep him from practicing with his new gun, which seemed like a toy in the hands of a child.
“I’m sure you could not have held the butt close against your shoulder when you fired,” Thad ventured, as his opinion.
“That’s just what,” admitted the other, with a sigh. “Know better next time, though, Thad; and thank you for making it feel easier. But I wish I’d got that bear. How fine it would be to eat steak from a big bear I’d killed with the first shot from my new gun.”
“Make that plural, Bumpus, for you fired both barrels, remember,” laughed Thad.