“And I’m in the ring,” remarked Step Hen. “Why, my mouth’s just watering for some prime mutton chops.”
Thad smiled. He knew that if ever they did secure a big-horn, the flesh of that high jumping animal would probably be as tough as leather, unless fortunately they chanced upon a young one.
It was finally arranged that besides Thad and Allan, Step Hen, Giraffe and Bob White should make up the hunting party.
This would leave three in camp—Smithy who had no gun, Davy Jones, whose head still felt sore from the effect of his accident on the previous afternoon; and the despondent Bumpus, who was acting very strangely, for one of his cheery disposition.
No one dreamed that any trouble could come upon the camp while part of the scouts were away. Two of those who remained owned guns, though at the last moment Davy Jones forced Bob White to carry his “pump” shot gun. But then, what was there to fear? If the mate of the slain grizzly came around, looking for the absent one, the boys had been instructed to take to the trees; and Thad had even gone to the trouble of picking out the best fortress available in this line, one that even the clumsy Bumpus could readily climb.
“Think you could shin up that tree, in case the other old Mountain Charlie came prowling around?” Thad asked Bumpus.
“Oh! I guess I could,” replied the other, rather indifferently, Thad thought.
“Tell you what, Bumpus,” called out Step Hen, “if I was you I’d fix it so’s to have my ammunition up in that tree. Then, you see, if he sat down at the butt here, to wait till you got ripe and dropped, why, you could just keep banging away till you loaded him so full of little bullets he couldn’t get up off the ground. Great stunt, ain’t it boys?”
The others readily declared that it was making things easy for Bumpus. They were even kind enough to express a wish that another bear would take a notion to come around, just to please Bumpus, for it pained them exceedingly to see him looking so miserable.
But the fat boy did not grow at all enthusiastic over Step Hen’s proposal. He just watched all the preparations being made for the hunt; and sitting there on the log, kept polishing his gun, although it certainly showed no speck of rust or grime.