"To say nothing of deer, and fierce wildcats," chimed in Bob, smilingly.
"A little army like we are would scare off anything that toddles on four legs," declared Sam; "we had better not make such a racket."
"It doesn't make any difference yet," said Kirk Talbot, picking himself up, a creeping vine having sent him headlong.
After making their way through a dense thicket, they reached the banks of a small but rapid stream. This was crossed by means of a few stones which rested in the swirling and bubbling water.
Just a few paces further along, John Hackett gave an illustration of how not to carry a gun. Swinging it carelessly over his shoulder, his hand grasping the barrel, he pushed ahead. A low-hanging branch in some manner caught the hammer, pulling it back and then releasing it. The unexpected explosion that followed made the boys fairly jump in alarm, while "Hatchet" turned white.
"Great Cæsar!" cried Bob. "Shoot at a grasshopper, Hackett?"
"Hacky knows he can't hit anything more than three feet away," grinned Nat.
"I thought a gun's trigger was meant to be pulled by hand," said Dick, with a wink at Tom Clifton.
"Cut it out," growled John; "you fellows needn't think you're smart."
"Guns and hunting knives! Don't get in front of him," laughed Kirk.