“We catch um meat,” Toma attempted to cheer the boys. “Mebbe bye an’ bye we eat.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” declared Sandy, thinking of the lonely strip of bacon and the one handful of flour, which were all that remained of the provisions the grizzly had destroyed. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t seen very much game lately. Have you, Dick?”
Dick shook his head, forced to acknowledge the truth of Sandy’s statement.
“When a fellow’s hungry,” Sandy complained, rubbing his lame ankle, “he’s hungry, that’s all, and a mouthful of bacon is about as much good to him as a drop of fresh water in the ocean.”
“Me no eat one time for whole week.” Toma reminded them.
Both boys looked up in astonishment.
“A whole week!” gasped Dick, “great guns! I hope we don’t come to that.”
“Mebbe set snare for rabbit tonight,” encouraged Toma. “Toma good ketch um rabbit.”
“I could eat two or three rabbits,” Sandy grumbled, taking up the slack in his belt.
As they made their way onward, Dick seriously considered their plight. Thoughts of the ruthless, cold-hearted rifling of the cache by Bear Henderson’s men filled him with an anger that was difficult to suppress. But anger or resentment could not help them now. The thing to do was to abandon any attempt at further progress that day and put in a few good hours hunting while it was yet daylight.