“Oh, yes, a pretty fair one. But I wish I had one like yours.”
“You can use it whenever you want to,” was Jack’s generous offer. “Budge hasn’t any, and I’m going to let him take my old rifle, though I expect he’ll get the lock all stuck up with gum, so it won’t shoot.”
“I’m glad Budge is going. He’ll keep things lively.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry Bill Williams can’t go. I s’pose I’ve got to write to his guardian, and tell him I haven’t seen Bill. Well, we’re almost ready. I guess we can start in about three days.”
“When will Sam and Bony arrive?”
“I expect them to-morrow. Then we’ll make for the West, for the mountains, the bad lands, the desert, and the home of big game! Whoop! La-la! Hold me down, Nat! I’m feeling fine!”
Jack began dancing about the loft, and the loose boards of the floor made such a racket as he leaped about, pulling Nat this way and that in his enthusiasm, that Budge, who was cleaning out the stable, called up from below:
“’Sanythingwrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong, you old gum-masticating specimen of a big-horn sheep,” replied Nat. “We’re just working off some steam, that’s all.”