As the party sat together eating the last of their rations, Ham fell into one of his philosophical moods.
"I like this kind of life," he began. "Out here you let go your hold on man-made things and shift for yourself." He looked cautiously over at Fat, who was trying to scratch a particularly itchy sting just out of reach in the middle of his back. "I like the unchanging condition of nature," he continued. "The wilderness is all yours, and you may take from it all the essentials of primitive living—shelter, warmth, and food."
"Ham, you're an unmitigated prevaricator," cried Fat as he scratched and made faces. Ham paid no attention to him. "Here in the open country you can get mighty close to the great wilderness with its myriads of busy lives, and—" Fat picked up a pine cone and threw it, but Ham disappeared around the end of the big rock.
"Ham, you're just like the loons we have on the Michigan lakes," taunted Willis. "You can do and say more crazy things than all the rest of us ducks put together; but when any one takes a shot at you, you're out of sight."
By this time Fat had managed to make two holes in his can of milk and was drinking the contents. Mr. Allen had returned to his sketching, and Willis had gone over to the little dam to get a drink. Suddenly there was the snort of a horse and the rapid tramping of hoofs. A dog gave two or three barks, then horse, rider, and dog appeared on the trail. In a second another rider, with a pick and shovel thrown over his shoulder, came over the ridge. The first pulled in his horse and, turning in his saddle, looked to see if his companion was coming. Being confident that he was not far behind, he again urged his horse forward, apparently not noticing the group by the big boulder. Ham got to his feet and spoke to the dog. The horseman gave a quick exclamation of surprise, then called out, "Howdy!" Mr. Allen rose.
"Well, well!" called the man. "Seems to me yew fellers are travelin' some, ain't ye?"
"O, a little," returned Mr. Allen.
"You don't happen to know, do you, whether there are two cabins above here, do you? We was directed to the middle cabin."
"No, only a very badly decayed one—just a pile of tumbled-down logs," replied Mr. Allen. The second rider had come up and dismounted, and together they studied a sketch which he had taken from his pocket.
"This must be the one, that's all," he drawled, as he spat out a great quid of tobacco, "'cause he said it was by the bridge. We must o' missed the other cabin in the trees somewhere below here."