'Got 'im,' snapped Chippy in triumph, 'an' a good un, too. They say it's allus the new hands as get the best luck. We've got plenty now, an' it ain't allowed to tek' more'n we can eat.'
This trout was far too big for Chippy to kill with finger and thumb, so he whipped off his jacket, rolled the fish in it, and the two scouts hurried back to the camp fire. Here Chippy despatched the trout by a sharp tap behind its head, delivered with the handle of the tomahawk, and the boys gloated over their prize. It was a fine, short, hog-backed trout, weighing well over three pounds, and in the pink of condition.
''Bout as much as anybody wants to lift out wi' a nut-stick,' commented Chippy, while Dick stared entranced at his glorious shining prize.
'Time to turn in now, I shouldn't wonder,' said the Raven, and the Wolf looked at his watch.
'Close upon ten,' said the latter.
'Well, we've just about 'ad a day of it,' said his comrade. 'I'll bet we'll be off to sleep like a shot.'
CHAPTER XXXII
TERRORS OF THE NIGHT
It was not until they lay down and waited for sleep that the boys felt the oddness and queerness of this first night in the open. Bustling round, making the fire, cooking, rigging up their camp, eating supper, fishing—all those things had kept at bay the silence and loneliness which now seemed to settle down upon them like a pall. They were quite comfortable. Each was wrapped snugly in his blanket. The bed of larch-tips was dry and springy. The haversacks, stuffed with the smallest tips, formed capital pillows. Yet sleep did not come at once.