“Yes,” nodded Grant; “but I reckoned there wouldn’t be much shooting over there, so I pulled my picket pin and moved. Here’s another rabbit for that stew.”
“By jinks! Bunk,” said Spotty, “we ain’t shot one yet. We took him out to show him how ’twas done, and he’s showed us.”
“He showed Barker, too, I guess,” chuckled Lander. “Say, it done me good making that bunch turn tail and dig out. ’Tain’t more’n a mile to my camp, if it’s that fur; let’s strike over that way, for I’ll have an appetite by the time we can dress the rabbits and the partridge and get the stew cooked.”
“I’ve an appetite now,” declared Rod. “I’ve enjoyed the sport this morning very much indeed.”
CHAPTER XX.
A SUNDAY MORNING CALLER.
On Sunday morning, between the hours of nine and ten, Spotty Davis knocked at the door of Miss Priscilla Kent. The spinster, dressed in plain black alpaca, admitted him when he asked to see Rodney.
“You’ll find my nephew in his room right up at the head of the stairs,” she said. “Rap on the door. I don’t think he’ll have much time to talk to ye, though.”
Spotty’s knuckles on the door panel brought Grant, half dressed and wondering.