“You are at the bottom of this, Bob—you and Dick—but I don’t know how to thank you for it,” said George, at length.
“Do you remember what you said to me when you brought my gun up from the bottom of the lake?” asked Bob. “You needn’t try.”
George thought it best to act upon this advice, for he could not find words with which to express his gratitude.
CHAPTER XV.
THE RENDEZVOUS.
George’s unexpected stroke of fortune put new life and energy into him, and he worked to such good purpose that in less than three-quarters of an hour the dinner was ready and waiting.
Neither of them had much to say, each being fully occupied with his own thoughts. George was telling himself how good he was going to be, how hard he was going to study when he was fairly installed at the academy, and had learned how to perform the duties that were required of him, while his companion was looking a little further into the future.
Bob Howard had as good a home as any boy ever had, and, unlike a good many of his age, he knew and fully appreciated the benefits of it; but it was a lonely home in some respects, for he had no mother, and not a playmate within many miles of him. Here was a boy who had saved his life at the imminent risk of his own, who was also motherless, who had no father worth mentioning, and if he found that George, speaking in schoolboy parlance, “wore well”—if, after summering and wintering him, he became satisfied that he was as good a fellow in every respect as he seemed to be—why shouldn’t he take him home with him when they had both completed the course at the academy, and make a brother of him? The house was large enough for them—if it were not, the mountain range around it was—and Bob was sure that his father would give his friend a cordial welcome.
Bob was resolved that he would think the matter over when he could devote more time to it.
“What shall we do now?” said George, breaking in on his reverie. “Dinner is ready, but Dick hasn’t returned.”
“We’ll not waste any time in waiting for him,” replied Bob. “The last time he shot he was so far away that I could hardly hear the report of his gun. Let’s eat our dinner and go back to the bass-hole. Dick won’t come back as long as he can find a squirrel to shoot at, and when he does come he can help himself.”