"She's a great institution. Henceforth I consider a cow as necessary a part of travel equipment as a suit-case."
And so we chattered on, saying nothing of moment, but feeling the great joy of possession welling in our hearts. It was a day and a night to be lived over many a time in memory. For the first time in our lives we were drinking of the wells of possession,—the enchanted streams which draw men and women into the wilderness to live and die on the outposts of civilization.
We had finished supper, and the grey gloom of twilight was crawling slowly up from the east when a sharp, whistling rustle almost above us brought the girls to their feet with a start.
"What was that!" Jean exclaimed. "It was almost like a bullet."
"Nay, nay," said Jack, indulging in a very sorry joke. "It is a ducklet."
"A ducklet? What ducklet?"
"That, my dear sister, was the whistle from the wing of a wild duck, darting into the darkness at a couple of hundred miles an hour. He had just got his eye on you."
"More likely on the gun," said Jean, for we had included a cheap shot-gun among the articles considered indispensable. "Wait until Frank gets after him."
I was greatly flattered by Jean's wholly unwarranted confidence in my marksmanship and eager to justify it at the earliest moment.
"No time like the present," said I, picking up the gun and filling my pocket with cartridges. "Besides, we have a surprise to show you."