Allan laughed. It was so strange to hear Bumpus, usually the most peaceable of the entire patrol, speak in so fierce a tone.
“You don’t stop to mention what these desperate chaps would be doing all that time, Bumpus,” he remarked, drily. “There must be two of them, perhaps more; and it stands to reason that they’re hard cases, ready to fight at the drop of the hat. I guess we’ll have to just attend to our own affairs, and let the sheriff look after these jail birds.”
“But if we happened to run foul of them, wouldn’t we be doin’ the right thing to try and grab the lot?” demanded Bumpus, loth to admit defeat when he had been conjuring up a bright idea.
“Certainly, if it could be done without too much risk,” replied the assistant scoutmaster, readily enough. “Such men are outlaws to society, and it’s the duty and privilege, I’ve heard my father say, of all honest persons to capture them, in case the chance comes along.”
“We’ve got a rifle or a shotgun apiece; and each of the guides is provided with his gun too, so we ought to turn the trick easy enough,” Bumpus continued. “Eight determined men against two, or p’raps three, you see. They may be tough characters, when they’re in cities, but I just bet you now their old knees knock together if they saw a row of eight firearms all aimin’ at their heads. That’s talkin’ some.”
“I should say it was, from you, Bumpus,” remarked Allan; “but don’t get too anxious to come to close quarters with these men. I can give a guess what they’re like. I’ve seen what they call yeggs before now, roving burglars who play the part of tramps, so as to get a chance to look country banks over, and break in some dark night, when the town people are sound asleep. And I want to tell you, boys, I don’t like the breed. If I have my choice I’m going to mind my own business, and let the law officers attend to theirs.”
“And,” broke in Davy Jones, “up here our business is first of all following the trail of Mr. Carson and his two guides; and after that, to get just as much hunting of the big game as we can.”
“What you going to do with all these clever little tools, Step Hen?” asked Giraffe. “I hope now, you don’t expect to tote ’em along with you? If they turned out too heavy for the fleeing yeggmen to keep, think of how you’ll suffer. Better give ’em a heave into the bushes again, and say good-bye. They might get you into a peck of trouble, boy.”
“Oh! I don’t know,” remarked Step Hen, “I’ll keep the bag till mornin’ anyhow, an’ then let Thad say whether we want to pick out a few of these things, just to remember the affair by.”
He laid the numerous tools in a heap beside him, and then turned the old hand-bag over, as though meaning to clean it out before replacing the contents.