“That if he keeps on going at this warm pace, Bumpus might even get his old bear yet, who knows,” Giraffe asserted.
Thad and Allan noticed with considerable amusement and satisfaction that the boys no longer alluded to the lost comrade as “poor old Bumpus,” and “our tenderfoot pard.” Their pity for the clumsy scout was fast changing into sincere admiration, respect. And surely Bumpus deserved it.
“A good lesson all around, eh Thad?” whispered Allan in the other’s ear.
“Just what it is,” was the scoutmaster’s reply in the same low tone.
“Bumpus is learning to depend on himself,” Allan went on.
“And these boys have been taught to be more careful how they allow themselves to feel so superior to a comrade who happens to be slower about waking up. They won’t forget this in a hurry.”
“Sure they won’t,” added Allan.
“Come, boys, let’s be going on,” Thad remarked, aloud. “I don’t exactly like the looks of the sky over yonder where the breeze is coming out of.”
These words of the scoutmaster caused Giraffe and Step Hen to turn and look back of them. So much engaged had they been in keeping tabs on the trail, and scanning the woods on either side for a possible glimpse of Bumpus, that neither of them had once bothered about looking at the heavens.
Hence a great surprise awaited them.