"Of course we ought to let the guide go along with the boys; for I wouldn't like to trust them alone in the mountains," Allan suggested.
"That's right," added Thad. "Some of them seem to have a weakness for getting into all sorts of trouble from the word go. We can let one party start out, and after they come back, if they've had any luck, and the air's cleared some around here, why, another might take a different direction. You said Step Hen was wild to get a big horn, didn't you, Allan?"
"Never saw him so set on anything; but then that's his way always. When he gets a notion in that brain box of his, you can't knock it out with a sledge hammer. And just now it seems that a real Rocky Mountain sheep with the big horns beats any old grizzly all hollow, with Step Hen."
"All right, we'll have to let him be one of the first party. He did so splendidly when he jumped on the back of the Fox, and captured him, he thinks, that some reward ought to be coming his way. And there's Smithy, I'll see that he has his chance to try a shot. Giraffe could lend him his gun; or Bob White's would do because it's a much lighter weapon than the other."
"And how about Davy Jones; he says he's just bound to get some pictures of big-horns on their native rocks, or making some of those famous leaps he's heard so much about; can he be one of the bunch, Thad?"
"Yes, but that is the limit. Three frisky scouts will be about all that any one guide can keep tabs on, I rather think," replied the other, smiling as he tried to picture Toby Smathers endeavoring to hold the ambitious photographer, and the pair of would-be big-horn hunters, in check; for he imagined the task might resemble a circus feat of trying to drive half a dozen steeds at the same time.
When the plan of campaign for the day was made known, there was considerable rejoicing, and a little grumbling. Of course the former came from those who had been lucky enough to draw prizes; while the discontent sprang from Giraffe, who had also cherished certain aspirations, looking to a pair of elegant big-horns, to decorate his den at home in Cranford.
But if Giraffe did occasionally show a spirit like this, the best thing about him was the rapidity with which he got over the "grumbles," as Step Hen called his little fits of the sulks. In five minutes he had apparently forgotten his disappointment, and was offering to loan Smithy his rifle, even before the scoutmaster had mentioned anything about it.
However, it was judged too heavy for a greenhorn to pack around all day; and in order that Giraffe might not feel offended, Thad smoothed matters down, as usual, by administering a little dose of flattery.
"He's only a new beginner, Giraffe, and not used to toting a gun. Why, his shoulder would be sore from carrying it all day. With an old hand like you, it's a different matter; and I rather think that gun just seems to fit into a notch on your shoulder, like it grew there. Now, Bob's gun is much lighter; and with those mushroom bullets, the small bore doesn't matter a bit. So we'll let him take that. Besides, if anything happened here that spelled trouble, you'd feel pretty sore if you didn't have your faithful old shooting-iron at hand."