“Plenty for dinner,” said Bob. “And just now nothing would suit me better than to go home and cook ’em.”
This feeling was heartily shared by the boys, and it did not take them long to gather up their bait and reels and start away from the pool.
Although, by tacit consent, they did not mention their hair-raising experience on that tramp through the woods, it was easy to tell by the way they continually glanced this way and that into the shadows of the forest what was uppermost in their minds.
Of course they had been told there were wild animals on Spruce Mountain, but somehow they had not taken the information very seriously. But since the incident of the afternoon, an incident that might have ended in tragedy, they decided to be more cautious.
“I’m glad we met one, anyway,” said Herb, as, later that night, they prepared for bed.
“Met what?” yawned Jimmy, who, after the day’s exertions, was very weary.
“The bobcat, bonehead,” retorted Herb, unflatteringly. “What did you think I was talking about—the fish?”
“Well,” said Joe, reflectively, “I’ve seen plenty of pictures of wildcats, but as far as I’m concerned I’m perfectly willing to take the pictures’ word for it.”
“Same here,” put in Bob, grinning. “They aren’t particularly playful little animals to have around.”
At that moment Jimmy sank upon his cot with a sigh of abject relief.