Chapter Thirty.
The Beaver sniffs Danger.
“There’s something wrong, Master Bart,” said Joses that evening, as Bart, rejoicing in the luxury of well-dried clothes, sat enjoying the beauty of the setting sun, and thinking of the glories of the canyon, longing to go down again and spend a day spearing trout and salmon for the benefit of the camp.
“Wrong, Joses!” cried Bart, leaping up. “What’s wrong?”
“Dunno,” said Joses, gruffly, “and not knowing, can’t say.”
“Have you seen anything, then?”
“No.”
“Have you heard of anything?”
“No.”