“He must have rained down,” said Ethan; “or else he’s been with that other party of sportsmen, and slipped away from their camp, bent on having a regular moose hunt of his own. Look at this popgun, will you; it’s one of the kind that has a spring in it, and shoots B. B. shot. I’ve owned the same kind myself years ago. But what do you think, Phil?”
“I’m all up in the air,” replied the other, candidly. “If he came from that other camp he couldn’t be connected with any of those rich sportsmen, for you can see his clothes are those of poverty, though warm enough. He must belong to some Canadian backwoods family. It might be they’ve got a man and wife cooking for them in their camp, or the man as a guide and the woman to get the meals. And the child could belong to them, it might turn out.”
“Didn’t Mr. McNab tell us that terror of the pines, Anson Baylay, had several kids at his home, as well as a wife, a small woman who knew how to manage the big giant?” inquired Ethan.
“That’s a fact!” declared Phil, looking again at the small boy; “I wonder now if this could be one of his brood? But when he gets so he can talk perhaps we’ll be able to find out all about him.”
“What’s the program?” demanded Ethan; “we don’t want to stay here, do we, hoping some one may come in search of the poor kid?”
“No, our best plan is get him to camp with all speed. He may not be as well off as I’ve hoped is the case. And with a night ahead of us, a shelter, with food and a fire will be good for all of us. Fact is, there’s a change coming on; the sun has gone behind the clouds, and it wouldn’t surprise me if we had one of those blizzards you’re so fond of talking about.”
“Well, for myself I wouldn’t mind,” said Ethan, loftily; “but it would be pretty tough on the little chap if we got caught in a howling storm, with the mercury going away down below zero. I’ll take my turn carrying him, Phil, remember.”
“We’ll have to change about, because he’s going to be no light load,” Phil admitted; “I wish the boy would come to himself; he might tell us something that’d put us on the right track. But we’re not going to wait for that.”
With these words he gathered the little fellow up in his arms and started. Ethan on his part took charge of the guns, as well as the camera; and in this manner they headed in what Phil believed to be a bee-line for the camp.
It would have been no small task carrying the boy for any distance, even under ordinary conditions; and the fact of their being on snow-shoes made it all the more difficult.