“Anything doing?” questioned Frank, smiling as he saw the other trying as hard as he could to look unconcerned.
“Oh, I just thought I’d like to get somebody’s opinion about what this beast is, that’s all,” remarked Will, suddenly flashing the blueprint.
“Whew! Doesn’t he look sassy, though!” exclaimed Jerry.
“It’s a wolf, all right, and as fine a picture as you could dream of getting!” Frank said.
“The flash has startled him, and he’s showing his teeth like anything!” was the verdict of Bluff. “Will, take my word for it, your wolf picture will win you the first prize they offered of a flashlight animal taken by himself!”
“Oh, do you think so, Bluff? It’s nice to hear you say that. So you like it, do you, Frank? Everything seemed to work like magic. Why, that trap is perfect, that’s what it is! A greenhorn photographer could get good results with that arrangement.”
“Now, don’t you believe it,” Jerry told him; “I’d make a mess of it, for one. You know every little wrinkle of the business, and this is what comes of it. That’s sure a dandy picture.”
They were all feeling unusually happy as they sat down to eat the midday meal. As a rule, this might be called a lunch; but with such ferocious appetites as all of them seemed to have developed since arriving in camp, it was necessary to do considerable cooking.
CHAPTER XI—FACING TROUBLE
After all, no hunting party started out that afternoon. Jerry probably ate too heartily of the midday meal, for he complained of pains in his stomach and “guessed he had better lie around the rest of the day.”