Bumpus was apparently watching the two men on the sly. When he thought they were not looking, the fat scout quickly bent over near a tree.
Thad had quite a thrill, for he saw that the two guns owned by the men stood against this same tree. Whatever could Bumpus be doing there? Again and again did he turn his head to glance toward Hank and Pierre, just as though he might be afraid that one of them could see him. But Hank was telling a story of some kind, evidently, for the rumble of his heavy voice seemed continuous; while Pierre lay on his back, both hands under his head, listening, and smoking in a lazy fashion.
Now Bumpus had quitted the vicinity of the tree, and hovered on the other side of the fire. He craned his neck several times, just as though he wanted to make sure of something.
Thad believed he knew what that something was. He had discovered, close alongside the burly figure of Hank, the ten-guaged, Marlin, double-barreled gun belonging to Bumpus. Evidently the bully had confiscated the weapon, and meant to keep it, as something that might come in handy.
Now, Bumpus was a poor loser. He had grown to feel quite attached to that remarkable gun, during the short period of his ownership. And doubtless it had become more precious in his sight, after the clever way in which it had worked of late, with regard to that wildcat; and later on the lame grizzly that had treed Bumpus.
Thad believed he had designs on that gun.
Just then Hank called out again.
“Git a kettle o’ water at the spring, younker, an’ bring me a drink! Be quick, now, er I’ll skin ye alive!”
Bumpus picked up a kettle or saucepan, the only one in sight, and of generous proportions. As Hank roared at him to “dip deep, and bring her full, enough for a grown man,” the fat scout hastened to do so.
He approached, holding the kettle with both hands. Hank half sat up, to receive it; which he certainly did, full in the face. As spluttering he started to get, first to his knees and then on his feet, Bumpus, with an agility that was remarkable in one of his stout build, snatched up his trusty Marlin from the ground, and hastened to put some little space between himself and the astonished timber cruisers, already jumping toward the tree where their guns stood.