“And don’t think for a minute,” Ethan broke in with, “that it’s the guides who do things like that. They know better than to kill the goose that lays the golden egg for them. On the contrary, as a rule it is some reckless so-called sportsman who allows his primal passion to have full play when he finds himself up against such a golden opportunity. And I suppose he even makes his boasts of what great feats he performed when he finds himself back home with other fellows about the same build as himself.”
The snow was by this time falling heavily. If it kept up at that rate, by morning it would certainly be measured by a dozen inches. X-Ray was so tickled he could hardly think of taking his snow-shoes off, but sat there a long time admiring the bent wood and stretched gut contrivances which men have used for so many years as a means for getting over the drifts of these cold countries.
“Looks like you meant to sit up all night, admiring yourself, X-Ray!” suggested Ethan finally, with a little touch of sarcasm in his voice.
“Better put a chain on him, and make sure he doesn’t scoot out in the night!” Lub sang out.
“That word scoot makes me think of the motorboat we had down there on old Currituck Sound a while back,” chuckled X-Ray, not at all bothered it seemed by these remarks on the part of his chums; “you remember it was called the Skoot, though for that matter it belied its name, for it never could go fast.”
Soon afterward, however, X-Ray relieved Lub’s anxious mind by removing the snow-shoes, and saying as he did so:
“Guess I can wait till to-morrow for my run; and, Phil, remember, you gave me your solemn promise to keep me company the first chance that came along?”
“We’ll see,” was all Phil would admit.
“Lucky we got our bully little shack all done before this started in, eh, boys?” remarked Ethan.
“It held off for us, which was a mighty fine thing for the weather to do,” Lub told them, as he changed around in order to get his back warm, for he was now thinking of turning in.