Luckily, Bob Sharp's enthusiastic admiration for his leader had taken a very prosaic and practical turn. It was Bob's turn to prepare breakfast, and a hare was to be cooked. The boys wanted it cut up and fried, but Bob remained firm.
"No, siree," he said, "Captain Sam's gone off to look out for us, without waiting for his breakfast, and when he comes back he's to have roast rabbit for breakfast, and his pick of the pieces at that. If any of you boys want fried victuals you may go and kill your own rabbits and fry them for yourselves, or you may cook your bacon. I killed this game myself, and nobody shall eat a mouthful of it till Captain Sam carves it."
The boys were hungry, but they agreed with Bob, when he thus peremptorily suggested the propriety of awaiting their young leader's return, and so when Sam got back, about ten o'clock, he found a hungry company and a beautifully roasted hare awaiting him, the latter hanging by a string to a branch of an over-hanging tree immediately in front of the fire.
After remonstrating with the boys in a good natured way, for delaying their breakfast so long, Sam carved, as Bob had put it; that is to say he held the hare by a hind leg, while another boy held it by a fore leg, and with their jack knives they quickly divided it into pieces, using the skillet for a platter.
The boys were not so hungry that they could forget their curiosity as to the result of Sam's exploration.
"Where are we, Sam?"
"Did you find the river?"
"Is it close by?"
These and half a dozen similar questions were asked in rapid succession.
"One thing at a time," said Sam, "or, better still, listen and I'll tell you all about it without waiting to be questioned."