The rain had ceased in the night, and morning had come clear and cold. While Sidney was struggling with the meat, Raymond gathered wood and built a fire. By the time the steaks were ready there was a fine bed of coals to broil them, and the boys were soon eating a savory breakfast.
“It’s a shame to leave that fine pelt here,” said Raymond, looking from the steak he was consuming over to its source.
“Yes, it is,” assented Sidney, “but, of course, we can’t do anything with it. If we had it in El Paso, though, it would pay a passage home for both of us.”
“I guess it would,” sighed Raymond; “and to think we’ve got to let it lie here! It’s the first bear I ever shot, too.”
“And you shot him blindfolded. I don’t see how you managed to do it.”
“Well, I aimed just a little below his eyes. I intended to shoot him in the head, but I’d forgotten a bear’s snout is so pointed. If the bullet hadn’t struck him in the mouth, just by a chance, it wouldn’t have killed him.”
“I wish father was here to have some of this meat,” said Sidney; “you know he’s awfully fond of bear steak.”
“Gee!” exclaimed Raymond, “I wish we knew where he is; it makes me homesick to think about him.”
“I guess mother will never let us go away from home again,” said Sidney, “after we get back this time.”
“If we get back this time, you mean.”