“Fired—on—by—the—hobo burglars?” gasped Bumpus.
“Sounds kind of interestin’, Thad; s’pose you tell us more about it?” suggested Step Hen; who, strange to say, appeared to treat the matter in a less serious vein than any of his companions.
Sebattis had raised his head at hearing what the newcomer said, and was evidently taking note; Jim shut his teeth hard together, and assumed what he no doubtless believed to be his “fighting face”; and he certainly looked fierce enough, Bumpus thought, happening to glance that way.
“Well, let’s have a bite to eat, first, and after that’s done with, I’ll tell you all there is to the story,” declared Thad, who was evidently “some tired,” as Giraffe liked to put it.
Then there was a hustle, as every one tried to do something about the fire, so as to hurry things along; for it became evident that Thad was in no humor to talk until he had refreshed the inner man.
“Some of you fellers go back and sit down; there’s quite too many cooks around here, and it hinders things more than it helps. Jim and me c’n get along faster if left alone,” and with these words Giraffe “shooed” Step Hen and Davy into the background.
Presently the coffee was boiling, and there was a scent of cooking food in the air. While the three returned hunters were munching their supper the others hovered around. Seconds seemed like minutes to them; while the latter took on the shape of long hours, so impatient were the boys to hear what had happened.
But after a time Thad announced that he was satisfied; and assuming a comfortable attitude, he started in to talk, the others hanging on his every word, and frequently interrupting to ask questions, when a certain point was not wholly understood.
“We tramped all morning, and never started any game worth bagging,” he began. “Of course, there were partridges, and if we hadn’t been out after deer we might have brought in a good-sized bag of the birds. But you know how it is—when you’ve got your mind made up to have venison, these other things only annoy you.”
“All the same,” remarked Giraffe, “partridges are mighty fine eating; and I’m going to bring in a bunch some of these fine days, if Davy’ll loan me his gun.”