"What's that? I made a mess of it, and the beast would have escaped if you hadn't shot him on the jump?" exclaimed Frank.
"And if you hadn't wounded him how could I have ever had a chance to shoot? You can't get out of it, old man; we'll share the honors," returned Jerry.
Frank said no more, but such generosity only drew him closer to his chum.
Fortunately the supper had not advanced far enough to be ruined. They were able to save most of the ham, which was a comfort. Frank declared that he wondered at the beast taking to smoked pork; he could not remember any similar circumstance in all his hunting, and concluded that possibly the wildcat must have been unusually hungry.
It had really been quite a strenuous day, and the boys were glad to sit around the big fire and partake of the good supper which Uncle Toby prepared.
Bluff had to relate his story again and again, but it differed little from what he had already told.
"I made a silly fool of myself, I know now, and it was mighty fine in you fellows coming to pull me out of the hole I dropped into. If that Andy has got my beautiful gun in his camp, he's smart enough to keep it under cover. I never had even a peep at it. But just wait. I'm going to get that gun back if it takes all winter," declared Bluff.
"He'll do it too, just mark me," observed Frank, nodding to Jerry.
Apparently the other was tired of hearing about that same gun, for he only smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
In the morning Jerry tried his hand at skinning the game. He had taken particular pains to notice just how old Jesse Wilcox did this sort of thing, and, being a clever imitator, he managed to succeed after a fashion.