"Yes," was the low answer, and the four weapons went off almost as one piece. There was a great fluttering in the trees and five quail were seen to drop. Then two others flew around in a fashion that told plainly they were seriously wounded.
"Come on, we must get them!" cried Giant, and leaped forward. As the two wounded birds flew close together he blazed away a second time, and the game dropped like a stone. The rest of the quail were now out of sight.
"Seven quail!" cried Snap, enthusiastically. "I don't call that half bad."
"I call it very good," declared the doctor's son. "To-morrow we can have quail on toast."
"Where are you going to get the toast?" questioned Whopper.
"Well, we'll have quail on crackers then," put in Giant.
Stowing the quail away in the bow of the boat, they went on through the gathering darkness. The sun had gone down over the hills in the west, casting long shadows across the little watercourse.
"It will be pretty dark by the time we reach Firefly Lake," said Snap, and he was right. It was cloudy too, and a stiff breeze from the east had begun to blow.
"We'll have to take care how we pitch our tent to-night," was Whopper's comment. "Unless I miss my guess, we'll have rain by to-morrow morning."
"Oh, don't say that!" cried Giant. "I don't want it to rain yet."