“Eh!” ejaculated Bayard, opening his eyes to their widest extent. “Doesn’t half the fifty dollars these scalps are worth belong to us? It does, and we’re going to have it.”
Perk very deliberately pulled off his overcoat and threw it across his saddle, and Bayard put up his knife and stepped back. Perk coolly seated himself on the head of the largest panther, crossed his legs over the other, and placed his hat beside him on the ground. When the Club witnessed these movements, they told themselves that if they had belonged to Bayard’s party, knowing their friend as well as they did, the offer of double the value of the panthers’ scalps would not have induced them to interfere with him then.
CHAPTER IV.
WILD-HOG HUNTING.
“Well, this beats anything I ever heard of,” said Will Bell, angrily. “I shouldn’t wonder if we had to fight for our share.”
“That would be a bad job for you,” said Bab. “Now, Bayard, let me ask you a question: when did you start the trail of these animals?”
“At daylight,” was the prompt reply; “and you couldn’t have found it any sooner than that, I guess. They were around our house all night, both of them.”
“That’s a—good morning,” said Featherweight.
“It’s a truth, and I can prove it,” shouted Bayard, glaring savagely at Featherweight. “Get away from there, Phil Perkins.”