For Harrington had made a restless motion, and then suddenly sprung up.
“Oh, hang it!” he cried. “Hi! Dan—bears!”
“Eh? Where?” cried Portway, in an excited whisper, as he rose to his knees and grasped the rifle at his side.
“In Noah’s ark, for aught I know,” cried Harrington, laughing. “Don’t seem as if we’re to find a grizzly. I just woke up in time to spoil your dinner.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cannibal dinner. I was being roasted. Sun is hot.”
As he spoke he gave his breast a vicious rub and buttoned the collar of his shirt.
“Come along. We’ll go round the other side of the hill and get back to camp. No bear to-day, but we may get a sheep.”
“All right,” was the reply; and Dan Portway’s countenance seemed to have been transformed; “will you lead?”
“Yes,” said the other, as he carefully examined his rifle, while Portway’s eyes contracted, and he glanced at his own rifle as if he were calculating odds.