After being without fresh meat for some little time now, that venison certainly did taste prime. And no doubt it was doubly sweet to Step Hen, who had made the best shot of his life when he brought the game down.
At least they need no longer think of being compelled to return to the camp near the foot of the noisy rapids, on account of a lack of food. They could go a number of days, subsisting on the new supply that had stocked up their almost exhausted larder so handsomely.
But there was a weight resting on all of them. They talked some, but most of the time after supper they sat there, looking into the comfortable blaze, and busy with their thoughts.
What these were, as a rule, might be gathered from a remark made by Step Hen.
“It was a good supper, all right, and that deer meat went just prime. Only wish he’s got as good to-night.”
And no one asked him who he meant. No doubt every one of the four around the fire had Bumpus in mind right then and there.
“And we’re going to keep this fire burning through the live-long night, too,” said Thad, later on, when there was some talk of going to sleep.
“Regardless of Hank and Pierre, eh?” asked Giraffe, his eyes brightening; for he never liked to see a camp-fire go out; it was always as solemn a ceremony in his mind as the passing of a dear friend would be.
“Oh! like as not they’re miles and miles away from here,” Thad went on to say. “And anyhow, one of us at a time will be on guard all night. If he hears a shot or a distant shout be sure to call me up, whoever he may be.”
And that, then, was the programme laid down. They would do everything in their power to attract the attention of the wandering Bumpus, in case he happened to be anywhere in the neighborhood.