"Why, it's Jack Dalton!" cried Shep.
"Hullo, boys!" called the man at the fire, rising. "Thought as how you'd be back some time to-day. How are ye, Jed?" he added, to the old hunter.
Jack Dalton, as my old readers know, was a guide of that vicinity, well known to all the inhabitants for miles around. He had visited the boys' camp during the summer and had been friendly in more ways than one.
"Thought I might get a shakedown here for the night," said Jack
Dalton. "Been hoofing it sence five o'clock this morning—over from
Philbrook's preserve—and I'm too tuckered out to make Fairview."
"Certainly you can stay with us," answered Snap. "Had any luck?"
"A few rabbits and some ducks, that's all. Gee shoo! Do you mean to say you got them deer an' that buck to-day?"
"We did."
"Gosh all hemlock! No wonder a feller like me can't get nuthin! That's rare luck; eh, Jed?"
"It was," answered the old hunter. "They don't expect to do it again in a hurry."
The shelter was opened up and all went inside and prepared a generous supper. Jack Dalton insisted upon giving the boys one of the ducks he had brought down, in return for the accommodations received. On their part they gave the guide a generous chunk of venison, for which he was exceedingly thankful.