When they recovered themselves sufficiently to get up and look through the evergreens again, they saw Silas disappearing around the first turn in the road; but he was in sight long enough for them to take note of the fact that he was stepping out at a much livelier rate than they had seen him accomplish for many a day. When the trees hid him from view, Tom and Bob sat down on the ground and looked at each other.
"Well," said the former, wiping the tears from his eyes, "so far so good. Now, what comes next?"
"Nothing more of this sort to-day; at least I hope not," answered Bob. "I couldn't stand another such a laughing spell right away, unless I could give full vent to my feelings. I thought I should split when I heard Silas say that he didn't know whether or not he could get his consent to touch that letter."
Silas being safely out of hearing by this time, there was no longer any reason why Bob should restrain his risibilities, and he gave way to a hearty peal of laughter, in which Tom joined with much gusto.
"It was when he went through his antics on top of the wood-pile that I came the nearest losing control of myself," said the latter, as soon as he could speak. "I didn't suppose that there was so much ignorance and superstition in this whole country as that man has given us proof of this day."
And neither did Tom imagine that while he and Bob were writing that letter, "just for the fun of the thing," they were setting in motion a series of events which were destined to create the greatest excitement far and near, and to come within a hair's-breadth of ending in something very like a tragedy.
It was a long time before the boys had their laugh out. Tom, who was an incomparable mimic, went through the whole performance again, for his own delectation as well as for Bob's benefit, reaching for invisible letters, and climbing imaginary wood-piles, and so perfectly did he imitate the ferryman's actions, and even the tones of his voice, that Bob at last jumped to his feet, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and hastened away, declaring that he could not stand it any longer.
The first thing the two friends did, after they became sobered down so that they could do anything, was to retrace their steps to the corn-field, where they hoped to secure an acceptable addition to the lunch that was in Tom's creel.
Nor were they disappointed; the game they sought was out in full force; Bob's diminutive rifle spoke twice in quick succession, and two young squirrels, after being neatly dressed and wrapped in buttered tissue-paper, were placed in the basket with the lunch.
Then the boys went in quest of the trout stream of which Tom had spoken. When Bob got down to it, and saw what a place it was in, he did not wonder that there were still a few fish to be found in it. On the contrary, he wondered if there had ever been any taken out of it. He had never seen an angler, no matter how enthusiastic and long-winded he might be, who would willingly stumble through five miles of trackless woods, climb over as many miles of tangled wind-fall, and scramble down the almost perpendicular side of that deep gorge, for the sake of catching a few trout, and he did not hesitate to tell Tom so.