In later days, amongst the backwoods of another continent, when their nearest neighbours were a scalping party of Algonquins or fierce Iroquois, they learnt to be more careful about that thin column of blue smoke which rose from their evening camp-fire.
But at present they were unconscious of any such danger. The feeling that they were most conscious of at this moment was one of hunger somewhere amidships, for their outdoor exercise, and above all, the cold dip, had given them healthy appetites. As soon, therefore, as the fire had burned sufficiently clear, they laid the spoils of the chase across a rude grid, made of a few wet sticks.
Then the savoury smell of roasted trout filled the wood, and when this delicate repast was ready, our two young heroes feasted sumptuously on the royal dish of red-spotted trout. When they had finished their repast, they washed it down with a copious draught of cold water from the stream.
"There goes the old magpie back to her nest. I wonder if the young ones are hatched yet. I'm going aloft to see," said Jamie, and he immediately began to climb the tall, straight fir-tree, which stood on the very edge of a steep slope, about twenty yards away.
When he had shinned some fifteen feet up the trunk he was able to clasp the lowest branch, and in another minute he had ascended to the very top of the tree, and was swaying dangerously amongst the slender twigs where the magpie had built her nest.
"How many young ones are there?" called Jack from the foot of the tree.
"Three and one egg left."
"Good! Bring the egg down. It's no good to the old bird now. It's sure to be addled. Bring it down--you know we promised to get one for Tiny Tim the lame boy, who can't climb."
"Why, what's the matter? Anything wrong?"
"Sh! Sh!"