“Never mind, we have the other, and we’ll have two more when Joe and Harry get back. I don’t think they took anything else.”
But in this the old hunter was mistaken. Skeetles and Marcy had helped themselves to a little of almost all the stores, but had not taken sufficient of any particular article to make it noticeable.
It took over an hour to get the shelter into shape. Then the fire was started between two large rocks, and here they proceeded to broil several of the fish, and also set a pot of beans to baking as soon as one of the rocks was hot enough.
“It’s queer that Joe and Harry don’t show themselves,” was Fred’s comment, while they were eating. “In such a storm as this they ought to know enough to hurry back.”
“I’ll wait a little longer and see if they don’t turn up, Fred. They may have found the load heavier than they calculated on. Remember, too, it’s quite a distance to where we left those deer hanging.”
“What do you think those shots meant?”
“I can’t say, except that they might have brought down some more small game, maybe a partridge or some rabbits.”
Having finished the repast, both set to work to chop firewood, for it was easier to do this than to drag it from the pile at the lodge.
“It galls me to think they’ll use up what we cut,” grumbled Fred. “But I’m going to get square sometime, you see if I don’t!”
“I think, according to law, we could make ’em pay for that venison,” returned Joel Runnell. “But I reckon it ain’t worth going to law about. We can decide on what’s best to do after Joe and Harry get back.”