“I suppose now you’re talking of that wonderful hunting knife you lost nearly a week back?” remarked the other, smiling.
“Just that,” Bob went on.
“And where was it, in your dream?” continued Frank.
“Where do you suppose, Frank?”
“Well, if you’re going to get me guessing, the first place I’d think about would be the spot where you cut up that deer, under the twin cotton-woods. How is that for a starter, Bob?”
“You made a bulls-eye of it that time, because that’s just where I thought I found the old blade!” Bob exclaimed.
“H’m, lying on the ground, and perhaps half hidden under the grass or trash, eh?” his chum continued.
“That’s where you missed fire. Where else but sticking in the trunk of that tree, just where the first crotch lies. But Frank, try as I will, I just can’t remember ever putting it there.”
“Which doesn’t prove anything,” his chum
went on to say with decision. “Sometimes, you know, we do things mechanically, and without thinking.”