A half hour later when Andy appeared at the tilt he had nearly regained his usual composure. David and Indian Jake were busy near the door splitting slabs from dry spruce butts, and looking up Indian Jake asked, jocularly:
“Where be th’ pa’tridges we’re goin’ to have for supper? I suppose you got a fine lot of ’em? I never was so hungry for pa’tridges in my life.”
“Here they be,” replied Andy, lifting the skirts of his adiky and displaying the five birds tied to his belt.
“You did get un, now, didn’t you?” said Indian Jake.
“Andy’s a rare good pa’tridge hunter,” David asserted, resenting Indian Jake’s implication that he might not be. “He knows how t’ find th’ birds when they’re about, and he knows how t’ shoot un, too.”
“And this ain’t all th’ game I’m gettin’,” said Andy, who had stood with fine unconcern, gloating in the surprise he had in store for them. “I killed a bear back here by th’ hill. We better go and skin he, an’ bring in th’ meat, I’m thinkin’!”
“A bear!” exclaimed David and Indian Jake incredulously.
“Aye,” said Andy, “and a fine big un, too. He’s prime, and has a rare good skin.”
There was no doubt that Andy was in earnest, and Indian Jake and David lost no time in securing their rifles and following him as he led them proudly back to the scene of his encounter.
The bear was, as Andy had declared, fine and fat, with a glossy, well-furred pelt. And, while they removed the pelt from the carcass, and dressed and cut the meat into convenient pieces for carrying back to the tilt, Indian Jake and David must needs hear the story of Andy’s adventure in detail. And Indian Jake, who took things for granted, and rarely complimented any one, praised Andy’s courage, and David declared no one could have done better “in such a tight fix,” and Andy was quite swelled up with pride, and glad of the adventure, now that it had ended so happily.