“Sure?” said the man, looking interested as well as amused.
“No; but I think so.”
“What’s he like?”
Tommy described him, and was much disappointed when the man lay down again, saying, with another laugh,—
“It’s a woodchuck; he’s no good.”
“But I want the skin.”
“Then don’t shoot him, let him die; that’s better for the skin,” said the man, who was tired and didn’t want to stop for such poor game.
All this time Billy had been staring hard at the sandwiches and bread and cheese on the floor, and sniffing at them, as the dog sniffed at him.
“Want some grub?” asked the man, seeing the hungry look.
“I just do! We left our lunch, and I’ve only had two little trout and some old berries since breakfast,” answered Billy, with tears in his eyes and a hand on his stomach.