“Show what you’ve got, Bumpus!”
Imagine the great surprise, bordering on consternation, of Bob and Davy and Smithy when the fat tenderfoot fished in his pocket and held something up.
“The foot of a bob-cat, as sure as I live!” ejaculated Davy Jones.
“Did you kill it, Bumpus?” asked Smithy, awed by the very thought.
“Thad says so, and he knows!” was what Bumpus remarked; and then with even a wider grin he fished down in another pocket, this time holding up some bulky articles that made the three camp guardians fairly gasp for breath.
“Grizzly bear claws! Great Jehosophat! you don’t mean to say that you found your bear, Bumpus, and actually bagged him?” cried Davy Jones.
“Did I, Thad; you saw where I left him?” replied the Wonderful One.
“You sure nailed him, good and hard, Bumpus, even if it did take ten shots or more, fired into him from a tree, to do the business. If ever anybody has a right to say he killed a bear all by himself, fair and square, Bumpus has. And here are three more truthful witnesses who will testify the same way,” with which Thad waved his arm around to take in Step Hen, Allan and Giraffe, all of whom put up a right hand, and gravely nodded approval of his words.
“And even that ain’t all, fellers,” quoth Giraffe, “what would you think now if I told you Bumpus had turned the tables on these here two critters who’d captured him, and were makin’ him do all sorts of slave stunts to please themselves? Yes-siree, took all the shells out of their guns, and then grabbed up his own to cover ’em. We saw him do it all, so there ain’t any mistake. If you doubt me, ask Hank there.”
Mechanically the doubting ones turned toward the big timber cruiser, who, playing his little game of appearing to be very contrite and sorry, so as to be let off easily, made a wry face, and remarked: