CHAPTER VII.
THE LONG-DRAWN HOWL OF A CANADA WOLF.
“All ready!” sang out Thad.
Some of them were already settled in the canoes; but Giraffe still remained, kneeling on the shore.
“Come, we’ve waited long enough for you, old Slow-poke!” called out Bumpus, who was the partner of the tall scout in the canoe paddled by Eli.
Very slowly did Giraffe approach, his eyes turned beseechingly on Thad.
“Say, that’s the way it always goes,” he declared. “I was just getting on to it the best ever, and if I only had half an hour more, I’d made my fire as sure as I’m Conrad Stedman. I’ve got her all figgered out; and by noon I’ll be twisted in my mind again, and the whole combination lost.”
But Thad only shook his head.
“Couldn’t think of it, Number Six,” he declared. “It was one part of the agreement made with you that on no occasion were you to delay the balance of the party. All ready; Bumpus, give the signal.”
Bumpus was a natural musician. He could play “any old instrument,” and extract very good music from banjo, guitar, violin, or even an accordion; he also had a fine voice that often aroused the enthusiastic acclaim of his comrades while sitting around the fire of evenings.