"Scoffing?" said Jack. "I thought we'd had enough of that."
"He means eating," chuckled Pete. "What a question to ask!"
"Wa'al, then, I'm camped about a quarter of a mile frum here, and will be glad to have your company. I come down to find out what was the matter, when I hear'n that mule critter of yours a-singin' once more. Glad to have met congenial company."
"We'll have to bring the mule," said Jack.
"All right. So long as she don't fight with my outfit, I've no objection," rejoined the prospector; "but come on, or that rabbit stew will be getting burned."
"Rabbit stew!" exclaimed Coyote Pete. "Oh, I never thought to hear them words again."
Rapidly they retraced their steps, leading Maud by her hitching rope. Soon they reached a small branch path, which they had not noticed on their way up. It led back into the brush where Jim Hicks, it appeared, had camped. As they neared it, a savory odor of rabbit stew became apparent. Pete sniffed ecstatically.
"Say, stranger," he asked in a trembling voice, "is they—is they onions in that stew, or does my nose deceive me?"