“Look, now, there’s another chance,” whispered Paul, pointing to a plump willow-grouse that sat in a bush in front of them. “You try first, Master Trench.”
“An’ don’t miss, daddy,” said Oliver entreatingly; “there’s only the bones of a rabbit left from this morning’s breakfast.”
The captain took a fervently careful aim, but went far wide of the mark, to his intense chagrin. Paul then bent his bow, but without success, though his arrows stuck in a branch close under the bird, which, being very tame, only glanced down inquiringly. Oliver’s arrow went over it, and the stone which he afterwards slang made such a rattling in the bush that the puzzled creature finally retired.
“This is becoming serious,” remarked the captain, with a face so solemn that Paul burst into a fit of laughter.
“Ha! you may laugh, lad,” continued Trench, “but if you were as hungry as I am you’d be more inclined to cry. D’ye think a stout man like me can sup heartily on rabbit bones?”
“You’ve forgot, daddy, the four big trout I caught to-day.”
“So I have, Olly; well, come and let’s have ’em cooked at once.”
The fish, which were really more than sufficient without the rabbit bones, were soon grilling over a huge fire under the canopy of a spreading birch-tree.
When the skipper had disposed of enough to allay the pangs of hunger, he turned and said to his comrades, in a tone of marked decision—
“Now, mess-mates, I’ve been rummagin’ my brains a bit, and the outcome of it is as follows:— ‘Whatever is worth doin’ is worth doin’ well,’ as the old proverb puts it. If we are to explore this country, we must set about learning to shoot, for if we don’t, we are likely to starve in the midst of plenty, and leave our bones to bleach in this beautiful wilderness.”