“Oh, I fancy there’ll be game enough out there, so if you miss one thing you can hit another,” consoled Sam. “What I want to see are the bad lands. Just think of thousands of small sandstone peaks, so much alike that they look like a stone forest, with sulphur springs here and there, and all sorts of queer-shaped rocks. It must be a great sight!”
“Yes, and it’s easy to get lost among those same peaks,” added Jack. “I read of a hunter who went out there, and he was so near camp that his friends could hear him shouting, but they couldn’t locate him until he began to fire his gun, and then they had hard work because of the echoes. We’ll have to keep together if we get in such a place as that.”
“But there are some woods, aren’t there?” asked Bony.
“Sure, woods, mountains, valleys, and all sorts of wild places,” said Jack. “I fancy there’ll be plenty of snow on the upper peaks, too, but it’s likely to be nice and warm down below.”
“What do you want to shoot, Budge?” asked Nat, for the gum-chewing youth had not said much.
“Hu! Guessarabbit’lldome.”
“A rabbit,” remarked Jack. “Maybe we’ll be glad of a good rabbit stew, or one roasted, in case these mighty hunters don’t bring down a buck or a bear.”
Thus they talked for many miles, until they had to change cars, where they took another road leading more directly West. They arrived at Chicago the morning after the day on which they had started, and spent some time in the Windy City. Then they started off again.
“Two days more and we’ll be in Wyoming,” remarked Jack the next afternoon, as they were speeding through Iowa. “Then for a good time. Eh, fellows?”
“That’s what!” answered Sam. “My, but I’m getting stiff. I’d like to get out and have a ball game.”