It was Rob Carrol and no one else, who stepped into sight from the other side of the rocks and came toward him, shaking so much with mirth that he could hardly walk.
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Fred, savagely; "you seem to find cause for laughter where no one else can."
"O Fred! if you only could have seen yourself tearing for the rocks, your gun flying one way, your mitten another, your eyes bulging out, and you too scared to look behind at the animals that were going still faster right from you, why you would have tumbled down and called it the funniest sight in the world."
"If I had seen you with your life in danger I wouldn't have stopped to laugh, but would have gone to your help."
"So would I have gone to yours, but the trouble was your neck wasn't in danger, though I guess you thought it was."
"Why didn't you fire into the herd?"
"What for? They were too far off to take the chances of bringing them down, and you had killed the leader."
"Why, then, didn't you yell to me to stop my running?"
"I tried to, but couldn't for laughing; then, too, Fred, it wasn't long before you found it out yourself. If, when we get home, you want to enter the races as a sprinter, I will back you against the field. I tell you, old fellow, you surpassed yourself."
By this time the younger lad had rallied, and saw that his exhibition of ill-temper only made him ridiculous. He turned toward his companion with a smile, and asked, in his quaint way: