“Great Scout!” called he, summoning the Indians to the spot.
“What’s the matter?” asked the scouts, anxiously running after the two guides.
“A rascally porcupine has been at our leather last night!” declared Mr. Gilroy, angrily showing the ravages made on the harnesses.
Tally glared at Omney, “Why for you do dat? Don’ you know dem bad rats eat all up?”
Omney said nothing, but looked very penitent. Mr. Gilroy sighed as he began an inventory of the damage.
“Two sets of reins chawed to pieces; a throat latchet gone; three saddles with holes eaten through them, and two bridles cut to bits, all because of a little carelessness!”
“I fixa dem allight!” exclaimed Omney, eagerly.
“But that means a morning lost while you make repairs,” replied Mrs. Vernon.
Then Omney stiffened his spine and lifted his head in a majestic fury at the porcupines. He glowered down the trail and shook his clenched fist vengefully at the imaginary depredator, saying in hissing voice, “Him one bad darn beas’!”
Every one laughed at his suppressed fury, and the tame exclamation he had just used, but the poor guide felt better again.