"Use your own good judgment."
"Thank you, sir," was Tad's response. "Stacy, how is your heart today, after all your experiences?"
"It's weak," whispered Chunky hoarsely.
"Then I have a good remedy for it. Go out and cut some wood, but no more cane as you value your life. We don't propose to have another campfire blow up in the middle watches of the night and scare us to death."
"No more cane fire in this camp, young man," affirmed the guide.
Chunky very reluctantly shouldered an axe, after they had dismounted and removed the lashings from their packs, and after some delay they heard an occasional whack of the axe, then silence. The camp was pretty well settled when Tad sang out for Chunky.
"Where is that boy with the wood? Ichabod is waiting for it. Chunky!" he called.
There was no response.
"Ned, I guess you will have to go look for him. I hope he hasn't chopped his head off."
"Oh, he couldn't do that if he wanted to," laughed Walter.