"Sorry to say we haven't, Mr. Smithson. Has one of your charges got away?"
"That's just what has happened, and I've been chasing him all over the country. Got track of him yesterday just before the beastly old storm hit me. He's somewhere around this section right now. Where's your camp, boys? He'll be pretty sharp set with hunger by now, and can scent grub a long ways off?" continued the keeper.
The three lads looked at each other.
"What shall we do, fellows? Doesn't seem just right to be chasing off this way in a bunch, and leaving that poor old innocent alone in camp. What if this crazy man drops in on Toby while we're gone? Had we better turn back, and later on, if Jerry doesn't show up, organize another expedition, dividing our forces?"
Frank always put things so clearly that he seldom met with any opposition.
"That strikes me as sensible," observed Will, quickly.
"Turn back it is, then. Will you go with us, Mr. Smithson? We can give you a good cup of hot coffee, and some breakfast, if you're hungry?" said Bluff.
"I accept your offer, boys, and glad to meet you. Now, lead the way, please, because somehow, I seem to feel it in my bones that Bismarck will gravitate toward some place where there is an odor of cookery in the air. He always was a good feeder."
"Bismarck?" ejaculated Frank.
"Why, you see, that's what he thinks, and he carries out the part to a dot. Wait till you run up against him, if luck turns that way," replied the other.