"Must have been a pretty hard shot," said Brandon, dryly.
"You bet it was, Chub. There was a lot of 'em around; in the trees, and chirping away among the bushes, but I was the only one of the bunch that could shoot straight. Nat missed a bird so close to him that he couldn't keep his face from turning red."
After this complimentary remark, the speaker proposed that they all turn in.
"Good idea," said Nat; "you make me awfully tired, Hatchet."
One by one, the Nimrods stretched themselves out upon the ground. Then the Ramblers, yawning and stretching to an alarming degree, went back to their comfortable bough beds, leaving Dick Travers to stand the first watch.
The lad, with his gun where it could be seized at a moment's notice, seated himself on a log, to begin his lonely vigil. "Looks like another storm," he muttered.
The bank of clouds in the west seemed to be rapidly approaching. The lightning was of a vivid white and the thunder occasionally rumbled ominously.
It was soon evident that all the boys were asleep, tired nature having overcome their fears.
Dick Travers found it almost impossible to shake off the drowsiness that came over him. Twice he nearly fell from the log.
"This will never do," he murmured. "Goodness, how I wish that old beast had stayed away."