“Oh! then he must have been a man, because so far animals haven’t learned how to use hard language,” admitted Giraffe, doubtless chuckling at the success that had followed his little plan.
“He must have been pretty mad because you blocked his plans, to use hard words like that,” ventured Davy.
“Hurt!” declared the guide.
“He means that he thinks he wounded the fellow,” explained Thad.
“Well, what else could he expect, to come nosing around our camp like that, and even taking a sly shot at our hunters, after stealing their nice buck?” demanded Bumpus, who could not be accused of acting as though he were sleepy now.
“Where were they when you heard them first, Sebattis?” asked Thad, wishing to get all the information possible.
“Round here, mebbe. Hear talk in whisper like, and know two men come. Then fire just one shot. That all. They make off in hurry, quick!”
“Let’s see if we can find their tracks,” suggested Step Hen; but before he spoke Thad was already circling around, holding the lantern close to the ground, and carefully looking to see if there could be found any signs telling that the Indian had not made a mistake.
“I hope they won’t think to take a pot shot at the lot of us while we stand around here,” said Giraffe, uneasily.
“You needn’t worry,” spoke up Bumpus: “a sharpshooter couldn’t hit you, because you ain’t wide enough to make a shadow. Think of me, and what dreadful chances I’m taking all the time. They could get me by shootin’ with their eyes shut. But all the same, you don’t hear me whine. I’m ready to take my medicine without showing the white feather.”