The rabbits were duly examined and Sparrer was praised for his marksmanship until his cheeks burned, Pat leading in piling it on thick. Two of the rabbits had been neatly drilled through the heads, a third had "got it in the neck," as Pat put it, and the fourth had been shot through the body. Pat forestalled any criticism by explaining that this was the first rabbit they had found and he had told Sparrer to "shoot at thot little lump av snow just by way av gettin' yer hand in." Quite innocently Sparrer had done so, and had nearly dropped the rifle in surprise when the lump of snow had resolved itself into a rabbit which gave a few spasmodic kicks and then lay still.
Of course Hal was chaffed unmercifully over his one lone contribution to the larder, especially when he admitted that he had shot at no less than five. But he took it good-naturedly, confessing that he was utterly at loss to account for his bad form.
Meanwhile Upton had said nothing about his discovery on the ridge. His first impulse had been to blurt out the news, but on second thought he had decided not to. At the first opportunity he drew Pat aside and told him. The big fellow's face darkened. "Say nothing about it," he counseled. "There's no use in spoiling a merry day, and the knowledge that we are being watched will do them no good. There's nothing we can do about it to-day. 'Tis not likely they mean us any harm. It's the fur they are after, and they've just taken advantage of the crust which leaves no trail to look us over and find out how many are in our party."
So Walter held his peace, and threw himself into the preparations for dinner as if he had nothing of more importance on his mind. That Christmas feast will never be forgotten by the three city lads. There was the promised roast of venison, a rabbit stew, potatoes baked in the ashes, canned peas, biscuit, a jar of jam, and, to top off with, a hot apple pie made from evaporated apples. But the real surprise was a steak done to a turn over the hot coals.
"Bear!" shouted Hal as he set his teeth in the first mouthful.
Alec smiled. "I see ye have tasted it before," said he.
"Once," replied Hal. "Louis Woodhull got one on that Swift River trip a year ago last fall. But when did you get this fellow, and why have you kept so mum about it?"
Alec nodded toward the skin which was to be Spud Ely's. "It's the same one," said he. "I've kept part of him ripening out in the storehouse against this day," he explained.
When they could eat no more there was a general loosening of belts and sighs of complete satisfaction into which Pat rudely broke with a demand for dishwashers and wipers.
"Oh, can it!" grunted Hal. "When a fellow's in the seventh heaven what do you try to bring him down to earth again for?"