When morning came, Garry was the first to awake. Glancing mischievously at his sleeping companions, he softly stole to where he had hung the body of the bobcat the night before, and hid it in the lean-to in back of the pile of cut firewood. Phil awoke a moment after, and coming out, looked for the animal to get a closer look at it in the daytime. He inquired in surprise where the carcass had gone.
"If you can keep a straight face and deny everything, we will have a few minutes of fun with Dick," said Garry with a wink.
"Go to it, I'm on," laughed Phil. Garry proceeded to start the coffee and slice the bacon for breakfast.
Then walking over to where Dick lay still soundly sleeping, he stirred him with his foot, shouting:
"Get up, lazybones, and make a mess of flapjacks for breakfast," for it was admitted by the boys that Dick was the best cook of the three.
Dick rolled out of his blanket with a protesting murmur, and then ran to the brook below the spring, where he dashed the cold water into his face until the sleep fog had rolled away. On his way back he glanced at the spot where the animal's body had been hung the night before. Not seeing it, he turned to Garry and asked what he had done with the wildcat.
"What wildcat?" asked Garry in amazement, while Phil looked at Dick with a blank face.
"Why, the bobcat or wildcat or civetcat, or whatever it was, that you shot last night."
Garry turned and shook his head sadly at Phil.
"Poor chap, the strain of the last few days has been too much for him, or else he is eating too much again before he goes to bed. He eats too much anyway, that's why he has such awful dreams."