"Better than that. It's something to eat!"
Jack Dudley was right. The guide was laden with the carcass of some animal. Its bulk was proof that he possessed an accurate idea of the appetite of these young gentlemen.
"How careless in him to leave us thus alone," remarked Fred, with mock reproof.
"Do you wish he hadn't done so?"
"Don't name it!" exclaimed Fred, with a shudder; "he knew the only way of saving our lives. It wouldn't have done for him to postpone it another hour."
Hank Hazletine was never more welcome than when he entered the grove and let fall from his shoulders the carcass of a half-grown calf, plump, juicy, tender, and in the best of condition.
"I don't s'pose you care much 'bout it, but I feel like having something worth while for breakfast," he remarked, proceeding to prepare the coals, for he had dressed the veal before starting on his return.
"Well," said Fred, with assumed indifference, "I suspect that since you intend to partake of food yourself, we may as well join you for the sake of sociability."
Men like the old hunter are adepts at preparing a meal. The smouldering fire was in good condition for broiling, and when raked apart afforded a bed of live coals, over which generous slices were suspended on green twigs, cut from the nearest trees. It took but a few minutes to prepare the meat. Hank always carried with him a box of mixed pepper and salt, whose contents were sprinkled over the toothsome food, of which the three ate their fill.
"Are there any more of these animals left in the neighborhood?" asked Jack, when their appetites were fully satisfied.