"'Gator hides worth three dollars, and big ones four. That's our game, Jed, and we'll make enough in 'gator hunting to get that pony."
"You bet, for there's plenty of 'em down in Loon Lake—big ones, too."
"We'll have a regular corner in 'em. Come, let's get off."
The two young Southern hunters felt as if they had already captured a small fortune, and Stam—short for Stamford—made a rush for the house.
"Where's my gun? It's never in its place. Mother," raising his voice, "I can't find my gun anywhere. It's so provoking! Have you taken it?"
"And my game-bag is gone," echoed Jed, in an irritable voice. "We're in such a hurry, too."
"It's money out of pocket standing here looking for these plaguey things."
"Well, boys," replied Mrs. Fellows, appearing on the scene, "you have no one to blame but yourself. Nobody has touched your things, and they are just where you left them."
"Where is that?"