"We've had a bully trip," said Dick. "Glad that we're going to see old Hank Merwin again."
"And if we could only run across the fellow who took that bearskin, I'd feel better," murmured Dave.
"Don't think you'll ever lay eyes on it again," put in Havens, frankly.
The hunters kept a sharp lookout for game, and encountered plenty of the smaller variety. A pair of gray wolves, skulking among the pines, hastily left for other parts when Dick Travers sent a load of buckshot rattling over their heads.
After lunch, beautiful Lake Cloud was sighted. About the same instant, the four discovered several large white birds with long, graceful necks swimming close in shore.
"Sh—sh!" said Havens.
"Sh—sh!" said all the rest in unison.
"Swans," whispered Jim.
"One of 'em might look well stuffed—a nice souvenir of our trip," put in Bob.
Bob, Dick and Jim crept cautiously ahead. Afraid that the birds might take wing, they decided to risk a long-distance shot, although Dick felt sure that his would be wasted.