"There!" exclaimed Charley; "what an idiot I am, to be sure! I had that in my belt all the time, and I might have got the beef if I had only thought to use it!"
This was true enough. While going through the thicket, Charley had enough to do to cling to the back of the bullock, but while crossing the open glade he might easily have drawn and used the long hunting-knife if he had thought of it. But he had not thought of it, and it was now too late for the thinking to do any good.
"It is just as well as it is," said Ned.
"Just as well!" exclaimed Charley; "well, I don't see that. I don't know how it is with you, but for my part, I'd relish a beefsteak just now."
"So would I," answered Ned; "but that yearling isn't ours, and we've no right to kill it, I suppose."
"Why not? It's a wild animal, isn't it?"
"I hardly think so. The squatters must have killed all the wild cattle long ago, and this tame calf probably belongs to them."
"Well, they helped themselves pretty freely to our things, so I shouldn't be a bit sorry if I had killed the animal while I thought it a wild one," said Charley, rather ruefully.
The search for the hatchet was a somewhat protracted one, but that important tool was found at last, and so, if Charley's effort to replenish the camp larder did no good, it at least did no harm beyond bruising that young huntsman's limbs, scratching his face, and tearing his clothes.