“I’ll have to; I can’t skin him here very well. Do you want to go after another?”
Boxy gave a shiver.
“Not to-night,” he returned. “I’ve had enough hunting for the present. It’s something a fellow has got to get used to.”
“I doubt very much if we could get another,” remarked Harry. “The shots have probably scattered them from the neighborhood. They know what a gun will do just as well as we.”
Harry brought out a string from his pocket, and with this tied the dead fox to the barrel of his gun, which he slung over his shoulder.
“Our quarter of an hour is up and more,” remarked Boxy, as they turned to go back to the river. “The others must be close to Rudd’s Landing by this time.”
“I guess you are not as cold as you were,” laughed Harry. “I feel as warm as toast now.”
“Yes, such an adventure is enough to stir up any one’s blood,” rejoined Boxy, dubiously. “But I’d just as lief remain a bit cold hereafter.”
“You may expect greater adventures than this when we get to our winter camp, Boxy. Supposing that fox had been a bear, or even a big wolf?”
Boxy did not reply to this. Somehow, just then the camping out did not seem so much sport after all.