"Yes, I began to notice that about ten minutes ago," replied Elmer.
"I only mention the fact," continued the lanky scout, "because it strikes me that several times when Toby read out long descriptive letters he had from his uncle up here the old gentleman told of getting some of his best views when lying out in a marsh, and watching the little animals play tag, or some game like that, build their nests, and have their scraps. Am I right about that, Elmer?"
"Yes, and I can see what you're hinting at, Lil Artha. You've got an idea this may be that marsh?"
"Correct!" admitted the tall scout.
"And that if we've finally managed to work around, and strike Uncle Caleb's favorite stamping grounds, there's a pretty good chance the cabin can't be a great ways off?" Elmer concluded, while his words brought vigorous nods of approval from the other.
"Wish we could set up a holler that'd reach him!" ventured Lil Artha.
"We might try a few shots and see if they had any result, though I'd rather wait till dark before doing that," the scout master remarked, thoughtfully.
Lil Artha pondered over this for a minute before he made any further remark.
"I reckon you mean you still hope we might run foul of some sort of game that would give us a supper?" he finally observed.
"Well, here's the marsh, and while the snow is deep in most places, we might manage to run across one of their queer little winter houses, you know."