“Yes, I reckon that’s so,” said Giraffe, “I can understand why the fur is heavier and richer. Old Nature provides it according to the weather. If it’s a country with hardly any winter, why the fur is thin; and just the other way where it’s bitter cold for many months.”
“But that fence?” Step Hen went on.
“Listen to him still harping on that fence business!” jeered Giraffe.
“Oh!” Thad went on to say, pleasantly, “perhaps one year these trappers tried to stay through the summer too, and put up a fence to keep their horses from straying, and falling prey to the wild beasts.”
Step Hen seemed satisfied, because the explanation appeared natural. So for a while they kept plodding on in almost complete silence.
Both lame boys limped more or less. Thad noticed this, and concluded that they deserved a rest, especially since the afternoon was creeping along, and already the timber began to look a little shadowy.
So he mentioned the fact to Allan, who immediately resolved to keep a bright lookout for a nice spring of cool water, alongside of which they might stop, build a little fire, and take things comfortable for a while.
Luckily this chanced to appear very shortly. Although they would not say as much, being too proud to complain, Step Hen and Giraffe were secretly glad of the chance to rest. They talked valorously, however, of what great stunts they would be ready to perform after they devoured some supper, and had taken things a little easy.
Thad knew, however, that it would really require something of an effort to get the boys started afresh. The two hours’ rest would refresh their energies, but stiffen their sore legs, more or less.
Giraffe attended to the fire part of the business, as usual, and Step Hen hovered near by, ready to assist with what little cooking they might have to do. Thad sat there, examining some rough charts he had made of the country, as he knew it; and figuring on just where the camp by the rapids, occupied by Bob White, Davy Jones and Smithy, must be.