“Sounds like a country circus!” Jimmie laughed.
“That is just what it is!” Ned exclaimed. “Here! Help me roll the aeroplane into that nook, where it won’t be trampled into splinters. Now you boys get behind it, and I’ll get in front. Whatever you see or hear, don’t shoot unless you are actually attacked.”
The boys obeyed the commands without a word of comment, well knowing what was coming next. A breeze was sliding up the slope, bringing with it flying masses of smoke. Presently birds began to stagger through the heavy atmosphere, flying low, almost within reaching distance, as they had fled long before the mounting flames and were exhausted.
“I wish this would let up a moment,” Pat said, “long enough for us to reach that steak à la brigand. It must be about done by this time.”
“I’ll go an’ get it,” volunteered Jimmie. “An’ eat most of it on the way back.”
“Then bring the coffee,” cried Jack.
“Why can’t we all go out there and eat?” asked Frank.
The boys were about starting with a rush when Ned caught two of them by the arm and stopped the others by a quick call. Through the smoke and the hot air on the rim of the cup, a great head, a head neither white nor black, but grizzly, was seen. Then a deer bounded over and crouched down in the valley. Next two mountain lions raced over the lip of the valley and halted growling, within a few yards of the boys.
“There goes our steak à la brigand!” Jimmie cried, as the rush of frightened animals showed under the smoke. “I’ll eat one of them deer to pay for this,” he added.
“You’ll be lucky if one of these wild animals doesn’t eat you,” Jack said. “How would you like to be back in little old Washington Square just now?”