“Sure, a bear stew.”
“You don’t mean to say that the ferocious creatures known as bears are served as food in this outrageous country, do you?”
“Certainly!” laughed Jimmie. “The bear is the noblest work of God when it comes to making a stew.”
“I couldn’t eat bear stew, indeed I couldn’t,” gasped Gilroy.
“All right,” Jimmie said, “then we’ll cook you some eggs.”
The boy set to work preparing the stew. The larder was well stocked with provisions, and he had plenty of vegetables and rice to use, so in a couple of hours he had a great kettle bubbling fragrantly over the fire. Gilroy was supplied with eggs and soda biscuit.
Leaving the confidential clerk munching his supper and looking about for bears, Ned and Jimmie walked around the corner of rock and stood looking over the fast-darkening landscape.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” Jimmie said, at length. “Those boys are in trouble somewhere. It’s an even bet that they’ve been geezled by the ginks that grabbed us.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Ned answered.
“Look here,” Jimmie went on, in a moment. “I know the way to that old mission place. I could find my way there in the dark of the moon blindfolded. Now suppose I sneak over and see if there’s any trace of the boys there or thereabouts?”