The five chums noted in what direction the light was headed, and then turned the horses toward the same point. Soon they came so close that they could call to the other party, and they set up a shout.
“Hello, Porter! Hello, Morr! Is that you?” came an answering hail. And then the light seemed to come to a halt.
“It must be one of the fellows from our camp!” exclaimed Dave. “And if that is so, we can’t be very far from one of the regular trails.”
He urged his steed forward with the others following, and soon they came face to face with a man named Dan Morrison, who had charge of one of the section gangs at the camp. To this individual our friends explained the situation, and received the information that they were on a side trail which, half a mile farther on, ran into the regular trail leading to the construction camp.
“This trail is one of several that leads to the railroad station,” explained Dan Morrison. “It’s something of a short cut, but it isn’t quite as good as any of the others. But I’m used to it, so I don’t mind it, even in the darkness. I carry the lantern more for company than for anything else.”
Mr. Morrison was much surprised to hear about the shooting of the two bears, but the youths did not wait to go into details, being anxious to get back to the construction camp, where they hoped a good hot supper would be awaiting them.
“And if they haven’t got anything cooked for us, we’ll make Jeff broil some of these bear steaks,” announced Dave.
“They’ll certainly be something in the way of a novelty,” said Phil. “Although, as a matter of fact, I never yet ate a bear steak that could compare to a beefsteak. The meat is usually coarser and tougher.”
It was not long after this when they discerned the welcome lights of the construction camp in the distance. Then they set off on something of a race, and rode into camp in great style.
“Well, lads, what kind of a day did you have?” questioned Frank Andrews, as he came out to greet them.