"Food always does taste different when the surroundings are Nature's," he said, as they still sat around and "stoked up," as Lanky termed it.
"It does to me, for one," admitted Frank. "Chances are that if we had this spread at home, with a white tablecloth and china to serve it on, none of us would care a great deal for this venison. It might seem tough and dry unless cooked with bacon slices between. But out here, with appetites like woodchoppers in the cold North, it's a whole lot different."
Lanky was unusually quiet that evening, Frank noticed. Undoubtedly he realized that sometimes what are meant to be pranks turn out to border perilously close to tragedies.
When morning came the boys noticed that no haste was made to get started, and presently the reason for this was made known.
"Would you believe it," said Frank, coming over to where the other two boys were sitting after breakfast was over, "that miserable pack pony has wandered off during the night. It's going to bother us a heap, I reckon."
"Do you mean we'll be held up here in this little valley while a hunt is made for the pony?" demanded Lanky, looking anything but pleased over the possibility of further delay.
"All of us are to start out and search," admitted Frank. "Your father's given us the job of combing the valley to the north, while the others head south. We are to get back to camp by noon, and if the beast hasn't been found by that time we'll have to divide the stores among the bunch, for your dad says he can't be delayed any longer."
"I know what he's thinking about," said Lanky. "He's expecting a mighty important letter from New York that means a whole lot to him in the way of money. It may not arrive before we get back to Rockspur; but if it does I heard him telling Lige to send along one of the other boys to find us at Gold Fork."
According to the plan resolved on, the three boys left camp, going to the north in search of the pack pony, just as Zander and Jerry started toward the south.