“Teddy, put a buck-strap on that lower lip of yours,” Roy interrupted. “I have an idea.”
“Has it got something to do with us leaving here before winter sets in? Because if it has, let’s hear it.”
Without speaking, Roy nodded his head, then proceeded to search his pockets diligently. At length he brought to light a fishline with a hook attached, imbedded in a small cork. He held the line up with a triumphant smile.
Teddy looked at it for a moment. Then a grin came over his face.
“Fine!” he cried joyfully. “Just the thing. I haven’t been fishing for some time, and it’s well nigh on to three weeks since I fished for bear. I’m kind of out of practice. Let’s see now. What is it you use for bait? Oh, yes, I remember now. You tie the end of the line to a tree, put yourself on the hook, and jump overboard. When the bear nibbles you yell, ‘I’ve got him!’ That is, if you can. Then the bear laughs and says, ‘Oh, no, quite the contrary, I assure you,’ and by that time—”
“Save it, and write a joke book,” Roy retorted. “Now control your well known faculty for humor for a moment and pay attention. What’s that down there?” He pointed, and Teddy stared.
“That? Well, it looks like the rifle you so obligingly dropped. Of course, I can’t be sure, for we’re not sure of anything in this world. But I think it is.”
“Strangely enough, you’re right. Now my idea is this: I’ll tie a weight to this line about a foot below the hook. Make a cast. Catch the hook in the rifle. Draw up said rifle. Shoot said bear and his little friend. Then go home and eat.”
Teddy gazed silently at his brother. His mouth opened wide. A fixed look came into his eyes. Then, gasping for breath, he put out his hand gropingly, as though to steady himself.
“I’m not well,” he said thickly, “and I want to go home. It must be those cucumbers we had for lunch. Never again, as long as I live, will I eat cucumbers. Why, Roy, do you know what I thought you said? I thought—”