“Heap good dog,” the Indian grunted as he stroked the broad head.
It was broad daylight when the boys awoke. It was not raining, although heavy leaden colored clouds covered the sky and a strong wind was blowing from the northeast.
“We’re a lively bunch, not,” Jack declared as he got slowly to his feet and shook the kinks out of his legs.
“And then some,” Bob agreed sheepishly.
“Count me in on that,” Rex insisted as he, too, jumped about to get the stiffness out of his limbs.
Getting up in the morning in the woods when everything is wet and the temperature hovering around fifty-five is not conducive to high spirits, and, as Jack put it, they were about as cheerful as a wet blanket. But Kernertok already had a good fire going and the odor of boiling coffee did much to banish the blue devils.
CHAPTER VI.
REX DISAPPEARS.
As Bob approached the fire, Sicum raised his head and whined softly.
“Good old boy, what’s the matter,” Bob said as he placed his hand gently on the animal’s head.
“Feel um hide,” Kernertok said.