“It did,” agreed the guide. Ham White’s eyes were twinkling.
“Stacy Brown, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” cried Nora Wingate.
“Ashamed? No, of course not. I am proud of myself. The trouble with you folks is that you have no sense of humor. Even a Britisher would laugh at this. I haven’t had time to laugh for myself, but I am going to now.”
Stacy did. He laughed uproariously and long, but there was little mirth in his laughter. His motive was to put his companions in a frame of mind that would make it easier for him, for Stacy secretly feared they would take sweet revenge on him for his prank.
A brief period of silence followed the fat boy’s laughter, then the Overlanders broke loose. Theirs was real mirth, and their laugh lasted longer.
“Well, what are we going to do with him?” demanded Hippy.
“I reckon the young man is right about our lack of a sense of humor,” agreed Ham. “We have had our laugh; we have some fine meat for to-morrow, and we have had some excitement with no harm done except a little loss of sleep and a somewhat mussed-up camp. My suggestion is that if Mr. Brown will go bury that can of bear-bait, then sleep out in the woods to-night, we will let him off this time. Well?”
“I’ll bury the stuff, yes, but I won’t sleep out in the woods. The bears might get me,” objected Stacy. “One tried to, in my tent.”
“That is exactly the point that Hamilton is making,” spoke up Emma. “Sleep out in the woods, by all means.”
A long, wailing cry echoed through the forest.