Two reports were heard in quick succession. Then Elmer was seen to hastily run forward, at the same time managing to reload his gun.
"He got one, anyhow!" cried Toby, exultantly; "that fixes me all right. There, he has grabbed another up off the ground. Bully for Elmer! He knows how to work the game, all right. What! another bird? Oh! George, if only he had killed four you might have had one, the same as the rest of us!"
"Well, I like your nerve," said George, indignantly; "why should I be singled out to get left, tell me that, Toby?"
"Keep quiet, George, and don't get riled so easy," Lil Artha told him, "because, as sure as you live he's hurrying over to pick a fourth bird up. What d'ye think of that for great luck, now? Four hungry scouts, and a fat partridge for each. I think it's a splendid introduction to Uncle Caleb's pet game preserve, don't you all?"
"He must have knocked over three with that right barrel," ventured Toby; "like as not they were all sitting along a limb when he fired, and then he picked that last one when they were on the wing, remembering that George would have to go hungry, or only suck the racks, if he didn't get another."
When Elmer rejoined them he was wearing a smile of contentment such as usually adorns the face of a successful sportsman.
"Couldn't have been better any way you fixed it, fellows," he told them. "There they sat, in a row, and you never saw a prettier sight. I just hated to do such a thing, but even scouts can be forgiven for shooting game when they're adrift in an unknown snow forest, and hungry in the bargain."
"I should say they could," Lil Artha added, forcibly, "and lots of other times in the bargain. But these birds are as plump as any I've ever seen. Just feel of the fat breasts, will you? Makes my mouth water, thinking how fine they'll go with our coffee and crackers. How fortunate we thought to bring a few things along in case Uncle Caleb might run short on rations. Plenty of coffee, a little tea, some sugar, a can of condensed milk, crackers, cheese, a pound of bacon, and a package of self-raising flour for flapjacks. We ought to subsist for a whole day on that bill of fare, don't you think?"
"And as we've got our guns along," interposed Lil Artha, "with more or less of game around us, what's the use of worrying? For one I'm meaning to take things as they come, and squeeze what fun I can out of the same."
"That's the stuff!" said Toby, and Elmer nodded his approval; only skeptical George remained silent, for he was feeling of his partridge and with a frown on his brow that made Toby hasten to assure him the bird was a real one, and not such as he may have seen in his dreams.