"I see you're preparin' yourself for a climb up those crags, eh?" said Kiddie on the next afternoon. He spoke without encouragement.
"Yep," Rube nodded. "Any objections t' offer?"
"Not exactly objections," returned Kiddie. "I was only thinkin'."
"A habit you have—thinkin'. What was you thinkin', Kiddie?"
In response, Kiddie looked around at the mountains and the sky.
"Wind's changed," he said. "Looks like rain, don't it? Might keep off till after sunset time, though."
"Guess I'll chance it, anyway," resolved Rube.
Kiddie had told him exactly where the eagles' eyrie was situated and how he might most easily and safely approach it, first by ascending the gradual slope of the mountain and then working his way round on the face of the precipice, and then again ascending by a craggy cleft that would bring him close to the nesting-place. And Kiddie's directions and advice were always too practical to be ignored. Rube followed them exactly.
It would have been well for him if before starting he had also paid more serious heed to Kiddie's suggestion regarding the weather. But Kiddie had not insisted. Like Rube himself, he had not foreseen more than a mere evening shower of refreshing rain.
In Rube's absence, Kiddie occupied himself with the ordinary work of the camp. He was always scrupulously orderly and methodical; never allowing any refuse to accumulate, always regulating the fire to his requirements, washing up after every meal, and having a fixed place for each utensil and for the different kinds of food and stores.