“If we weren’t so short of grub it wouldn’t be so bad,” Bob returned as he took an extra notch in his belt. “What I wouldn’t do to a good square meal right now is a shame.”
“Reckon I could do something in the eating line myself,” Jack laughed back.
They camped that night near the spot where they had seen the vanishing cabin. The last crumb of their supply was gone when they finished their supper and even then Jack declared that he was not half filled up.
“Never mind; it’s not good to eat too much just before going to bed, and I’ll get a mess of trout for breakfast,” he promised.
He kept his word, and after a hasty breakfast the following morning they started off in excellent spirits.
Bob’s leg was much better and Jack noted with great satisfaction that the inflammation had entirely disappeared when he examined it just before the start.
They saw nothing of their enemies and reached the camp just after eleven o’clock.
“You look as though you’d had a pretty hard tramp,” the proprietor greeted them as they came into the office.
“Oh, not so bad,” Bob replied easily. “We’re leaving right after dinner. Please make out our bill.”
“Somehow I don’t quite trust that man,” Bob said as they went to their cabin.