"Did you take some of the bear meat along with the hide?" asked Will.
"All we want, I guess. I forgot to bring a file, and my teeth need attention before I tackle any more of that pemmican," groaned Jerry.
"Wait and see. The next time I expect to boil a chunk, and serve it that way, as a bear stew. If I have any choice, I prefer a cub, myself; but you fellows know that in this case it was a question whether we got the bear or he got us; and since circumstances compelled me to shoot——"
"Keep some of that hot air for to-night, when you'll need it to blow up your old rubber bag," called Jerry derisively.
"——why," went on Bluff composedly, paying no attention to the interruption, "it would be a sin to waste all that good wholesome meat. Hence these tears on the part of our envious friend."
"Envious friend is good—for you!" muttered Jerry; but all the same, he stopped trying to plague the other, as though the shaft might have gone home.
Soon they were climbing the hills that stretched along the foot of the mountain range proper. Old Peter was put to it, at times, to draw the load, and more than once Frank called to his comrades to put their husky young shoulders to the wheels in order to help out.
Will wandered on as they descended the other slope, with the mountains before them. He carried his beloved camera, of course, and no doubt hoped to come across some charming picture that would add to the pleasure of the boys when the season of cold and snow was upon them.
In this way he managed to get quite some distance ahead, for the wagon was halted while Frank rebuilt the load, in danger of falling off with the sharp descent.
Down at the bottom of the valley that lay between Oak Ridge and the Sunset Mountains proper, Will came to a stream. It was a broad but shallow one, and believing he could easily wade across, he pulled his shoes off, tied them to his belt, and then turning his trousers up, started in.