“Wish we’d struck this section of country an hour or two before dark,” Bumpus ventured to remark, complacently, as he sat there with his fat legs doubled under him, tailor-fashion and munching at the crackers and cheese he had made a sandwich out of.
“For why?” asked Giraffe, looking up.
“Oh! a feller might have just taken a little turn around here, and knocked over a deer, or something of the sort,” Bumpus replied, with the utmost assurance in the world; just as though such a thing were of common occurrence in his life. “Looks right gamey around here; how’s that, Thad?”
“Oh! Jim Hasty told us that much!” declared Step Hen, before the scoutmaster could find a chance to say anything. “Didn’t you hear him tell how every season there’s been a moose or two killed within ten miles of where we’ve got our camp right now. But we can’t hold up yet to do any hunting; so you’ll just have to put a crimp in that sporting spirit you’ve developed so suddenly, Bumpus.”
“Listen to him talk, would you?” exclaimed Giraffe; “and only a little while back you couldn’t get Bumpus to even touch a gun. Say, you’re a marvel, all right, Bumpus. They’ll have you set up as the eighth wonder of the world soon, ahead of the telephone, wireless, moving pictures, and even the talking machine. Edison and all the rest of those old wizards had better take a back seat when you come around.”
Joking and chatting, they made the time pass very happily. If Jim Hasty were in reality much concerned over the prospect of his meeting with the ugly poacher who had a bone to pick with him, he at least did not show it outwardly any longer. But then Jim was a man of few words as a rule; and it was hardly to be expected that so hardy a fellow would tremble, just at the mention of a name.
There was room for them all under the shelter of the tents, though as a rule, so long as the weather kept on being fairly pleasant, the two hardy guides declared that they much preferred to wrap up in their blankets and sleep under the stars. Such men become used to what would seem hardships to the city bred person, and in truth think very little of enduring them. And it was by no means cold enough as yet, to drive them into taking shelter under the canvas.
Giraffe had been working away at his fire-making business pretty much all of the evening, and Bumpus had watched him for a while; but growing tired of seeing the other sawing away as if for dear life, he had finally laughed, and turned away.
If Giraffe came near making things “go” that evening, at least once more the glory of a full success slipped away from his eager hands, outstretched to clutch it; for when it came time for them to “shut up shop,” as Thad said, and crawl into the two tents, he had not brought about his expected blaze, though his face looked more determined than ever.
Bumpus, Giraffe and Allan occupied one tent; while the other three scouts were assigned to the second. The guides promised to share their shelter only in case of a storm, or very severe weather.