"Right-o."
That night, the bear hunters were still reasonably happy. All had seen squirrels and feeding grouse. Four had seen deer and three had watched turkeys feeding. Paul Jackson had thought he'd seen a bear, but it turned out to be a black squirrel running on the opposite side of a fallen tree, with only its bobbing back appearing now and then.
For the next few days, the sextette stayed quite happy. Then deer, squirrels and turkeys began to pall. They were proud bear hunters, and so far they hadn't seen even a bear's track. The last day, disappointment was in full reign. They'd not only told their friends they were going to get a bear but, Ted suspected, Alex Jackson had done considerable talking about the way bears charged hunters.
Nevertheless, they all followed Ted back into Carter Valley and the five younger hunters took the places assigned them. It was the best way. They'd occupied these same stands for six days without seeing any bears, but sooner or later the law of averages would send one along.
With Alex Jackson in tow, Ted started back toward the valley's rim. Alex Jackson touched his arm.
"I say, would you mind if I just wandered about on my own?"
"Not if that's the way you want it."
Alex Jackson had arrived so full of dreams and spirit and now he seemed so despondent. "I won't get lost—and I may find something," he said quietly.
"Good luck," Ted replied gently.
Ted wandered gloomily out to the rim of the valley and sat down in the place Alex Jackson had been occupying. Not every hunter can leave the woods with a full bag of game, but Ted felt that, somehow, he had failed this eager young group. His guests might at least have seen a bear. Carrying no rifle—he was the guide—and with nothing special to do, Ted basked in the warm sunshine.