Both Giraffe and Step Hen were filled with secret admiration for the stout comrade whom they had always been in the habit of rather looking down on as a good-natured fellow, but rather incapable.
“Don’t for the life of me see how he ever done it,” Giraffe would say.
“Beats everything, and after this we ain’t got any business to look on Bumpus as a big baby. He got out of that hole just fine,” Step Hen would add.
Half an hour later, Allan came to a sudden halt.
“Ashes of a fire!” he remarked, pointing to his feet.
“Then here’s where Bumpus must a spent last night?” suggested Step Hen, looking curiously about.
“Wonder what he had to eat?” remarked Giraffe.
“Oh! plenty of grub,” Thad said, laughingly. “Look, here’s the rind from a slice of our ham. Davy said he’d cut some off.”
“Think of the nerve of him,” declared Step Hen. “But I just can see this rough experience is goin’ to be the makin’ of Bumpus.”
“Reminds me of the story of the bull pup,” remarked Thad, laughing. “You know, the boy had brought home a young bulldog, and the old man, to encourage the pup, had gone down on his hands and knees to bark at him, when the dog grabbed him by the nose and held on like fun. And while the old man was trying to break away, the boy was sicking the dog on, all the time shouting: ‘Stand it, dad, stand it as long as you can, because it’s going to be the making of the pup!’”