“The bulliest feller in the whole bunch, barring none!” Step Hen had declared.
“He’s on the way to being made a first-class scout, that’s right,” Giraffe solemnly remarked, all his petty jealousy gone, now that he again had hold of Bumpus’ fat hand, and found himself looking into the laughing eyes.
“All along he’s acquitted himself splendidly,” said Thad, warmly.
“And none of us ever dreamed you had it in you, Bumpus.” Allan chimed in.
It was indeed a proud hour for Bumpus. Forgotten were all his trials and anxieties. He would easily have been willing to undertake the whole programme again could he be sure of such a joyous outcome—yes, even to being hectored, browbeaten, insulted, and kicked about like a dog, by Hank and Pierre.
Long they sat there, talking of the many things that must of course be exceedingly interesting when looked back upon as past performances. Bumpus was asked strings of questions until finally he threw up his hands, to announce that the well was pumped dry.
Then they set about making ready to pass the remainder of the night there. When another day came they could decide what to do with Hank and his companion, who were hardly the kind of men to set free, with arms on their person, and hatred in their hearts.
Of course Thad and Allan made up their minds that they must, between them, stand guard until morning came.
They dared not take any chances when dealing with such desperate men as were the two trapped timber cruisers. And when they saw that a vidette, armed with a ready gun, was to keep the fire going all the while, as well as watch them, doubtless the men decided not to try and escape, but take things as easy as possible.
There was no trouble.