He watched Tom get busy with one of the pelts, and affix it to the large stretching board; after he had done considerable scraping, so as to get the skin as free from flesh as possible.
"They're prime skins, and that's what," the worker declared. "And if you'd shot this fellow on purpose so as not to injure his hide, you couldn't have done better."
"That must be the one that was trying to butt in at the door when I opened it just a mite," declared Felix. "I gave him his right down his throat; for he had his mouth open, and I could see the rows of shining white teeth; besides his red tongue hanging out."
"Of course that's it," remarked Tom. "I remember now that the others are shot in the side, and both of them just back of the foreleg. Great work, that, my boy; and when it comes to shooting I'll have to take a back seat, I reckon."
"Lay it to the gun," chuckled Felix; "all you have to do is to stick that shooting-iron out, and shut your eyes as you pull trigger. It does all the rest."
"Yes, and goes out to retrieve your game besides," added Tom, with a laugh. "The gun's all right, and I've used it enough to know what it can do; but there's a whole lot in the fellow behind the gun, as they say in the navy."
"By the way, Tom, you'd better tell me if you think there's any chance of my getting lost in these same old woods. I don't know half as much as you do about finding my way about; and I used to have the greatest weakness for losing my bearings you ever saw, some time back. Yes, I studied up all the known ways for telling the direction, if I lost my compass and could point out north as well as the next fellow; but the trouble with me was, I couldn't say whether camp meant north, south, east or west, most of the time. Of course, here I'd have the mountains to guide me; and besides, I've got a bully little compass somewhere around; so I don't think I'll worry about it. And even if I did stray off, it could only be for a night. After several stabs at it, I'd be sure to arrive at the proper direction."
"I don't believe you would lose yourself around here if you tried, Felix," asserted Tom, positively. "You're only saying that to josh me. But I'm not going to let it bother me any. If you don't turn up, why, I'll be on your trail in the morning." Tom said this jokingly, never dreaming that he might have a chance to put his words into practice so soon.
He, himself, had never been lost in all his life. Like the homing pigeon, Tom seemed to have some sort of instinct that, under all circumstances, allowed him to face toward home when he wanted to turn that way. And he could not understand how anyone could make such mountains out of mole-hills. Why, all they had to do was to use their eyes, and what sense lay in their head, in order to figure out just how to head to get back to their starting point.
And yet you could drop Felix down into the heart of a strange city, even great London, and he would presently be able to find his way around, so that in a week's time the streets would be as familiar to him as those of his native town; while probably Tom Tucker would have to be escorted to his hotel by the police every time he sauntered forth. He was used to one thing, and Felix another.