“What’s the mum-matter with you, Sleuth?” questioned Springer. “You’re as fidgety as a dog with fleas.”
Piper was stalking up and down in front of the tent. Without answering Springer’s question, he turned to Grant and asked the time.
“Nine o’clock,” said Rodney, after looking at his watch.
“I feel,” said Sleuth—“I feel the call of the wild. The wilderness is beckoning me to its bosom.”
“He’s got ’em again,” declared Crane.
“I must respond to the call. I must fare forth into the solitudes. I’m going away from here.”
“He’s going away from here,” repeated Grant solemnly.
“Well, I fuf-feel like doing something myself,” confessed Springer. “I’m with you, Sleuthy.”
“You are not,” retorted Piper positively. “I desire not your society nor that of anyone here. Alone I shall tread the dim trails of the forest.”
“I cal’late he’s goin’ after Injun scalps,” said Sile.