"What you going to do?" Bob asked.
"Injun scout 'round leetle 'fore we geet eats. Mebby they hide somewhere, take shot, oui."
"You'll be careful?"
"Oui. Injun look out ver' queek."
While talking the Indian had jumped out of the hole and was fastening on his snow-shoes.
"You no geet out till Injun come back," he ordered.
"You're the boss," Jack told him and the next moment he was gone.
"Hope he isn't gone long," Bob said as he sat down again.
"He seems to think of everything," Jack said. "You and I would have gone right out and started breakfast and made a fine target of ourselves without giving it a thought."
"Perhaps."