THE FIRST CAMP SUPPER
"They don't seem to be around," said Jerry, when he and his chum had covered at least half the distance to the lumber camp, without seeing a sign of the three fellows who had tried to dispute their advance in the morning.
"I hope they're not hovering around our camp, to make trouble for the boys," observed Frank, shaking his head.
The other laughed aloud in a scoffing way.
"All I can say is, I'm mighty sorry for Pet and his pals if they try that sort of business when that criminal of a Bluff is sitting there with his Gatling gun, ready for work. I'd sooner face a tiger, honest I would, than that instrument of destruction. I bet there won't be a chippy left around here when we get out."
"Oh! shucks, Jerry, remember that he isn't in your class. When he empties that six-shot gun and makes a miss every time, what does it matter? If the game had only poor Bluff and his repeater to fear they could well laugh. But when you look over the sights it's a different matter."
"That's nice of you, Frank. I'll try and be more lenient with the poor fellow, then. Anyhow, I know he shuts both eyes when he pulls the trigger, for I've watched him more than once. A man that's gun-shy never will make a success as a hunter. Isn't that so?"
"I've been told so; but, all the same, Bluff is a good-hearted chap, and I like him first rate. He furnishes fun for the whole squad; and, besides, nothing makes him mad—at least, if he ever brushes up it's over and done with like a flash. But isn't that the lumber camp ahead—I thought I had a glimpse of it through the trees—there it is again!" said Frank.
"You're right, but I don't see the wagon."
"I hardly thought it would be here before half an hour more. We needn't go any farther than the cabin, and can be taking in the sights while we wait."