Tad slipped out back of the tent. There followed a sharp flash, and a crash, then a series of wild "waugh, waugh, waugh, waughs," a great scurrying and floundering in the bushes.
"Ha, ha! Missed him, didn't you?" shouted the guide.
"I did not," answered the Pony Rider Boy calmly. Then the listeners heard Tad utter a groan of disgust. Billy Lilly slapped his thighs and laughed loudly.
"That's a good joke on the old scout, eh? That's certainly a good one. Well, what did you get?"
Tad walked in and shoved his gun into his tent.
"You knew what it was all the time, didn't you, Mr. Lilly?"
"Surely I knew. You didn't think I had been in these brakes all these years without knowing all about them, did you?"
"Wha—what did you shoot, Tad?" stammered Stacy.
"What did I shoot? Gentlemen, I shot a pig," answered Butler in a tone of disgust. "Pork! I am a rank tenderfoot. Stacy, please kick me."
"I—I can't. I'm in my stocking feet. Oh, I wish I had my boots on. I'll never get another opportunity like this," wailed the fat boy in mock sorrow.