“Mebbe he’s got over the fever,” suggested Step Hen. “P’raps a reaction has set in by now.”
“Let’s hope so, anyhow,” remarked Allan.
“And so Bumpus was about here yesterday at four P. M.,” said Giraffe, “Don’t I wonder where he is now.”
“And what he’s doing,” added Step Hen. “One thing sure, he hadn’t run across that bear of his up to this point.”
“Which I take it was a lucky thing for Bumpus,” Giraffe went on.
“Come on, fellows,” Thad went on to say, “we’ve still got the trail in front of us, and it seems to lead across that boggy stretch ahead. Here’s where he walked along the edge. Then for some reason or other he started to cross over.”
“Which I take it was a fool play for Bumpus,” grunted Giraffe. “Chances are a fellow of his heft would get stuck in the mud and mired.”
“Mebbe he thought he saw his bear on the other side,” suggested Step Hen.
Thad had plunged in, regardless of the mud. Where Bumpus went it seemed to be their duty to follow.
“Whew! wouldn’t this give Smithy a heartache though?” remarked Giraffe, when the mud came half way to their knees, and seemed so sticky that it was only through some exertion that they lifted each foot.