"Wal, wal!" he exclaimed, in a deep, hoarse voice, "I was a-thinkin' mebbe ye wouldn't let me in. Never used to keep your door locked, did ye? Gettin' kind o' pertic'lar now, hey? What was the whole bunch doin' around that table?"
He stuffed his hands deep in his trousers pockets, and shot a swift glance at Jack's grinning face.
"Awful sorry to have kept you waitin', Mr. Colliver. Please accept our apologies, an' forget it," said the big lad, soothingly.
"Fine words, but they don't answer my question, feller."
"Great day, Pete, isn't it?" began Bob. "Suppose you just came in from the woods? How's work going on? Sit down. No—not tired? Well, I guess if any one of us had been swinging an axe as hard as you do, Pete, we'd be a bit weary, all right."
"Not to mention the hours—the awful long hours, I mean," put in Dick. "Why—honest—"
Pete regarded them calmly, and gave the back of his slouch hat, which always seemed on the point of falling off, a smart tap.
"I've been a-thinkin'," he remarked, slowly, "that I'll quit the camp for a while, an' mebbe," his blinking eyes swept the group, "you fellers wouldn't mind havin' me along with ye? Thar ain't nothin' what I don't know 'bout campin', an' as for shootin', when I p'int me gun at any warmint it's as good as cookin' over the fire."
"Goodness!" cried Tommy. "Look! Dave's actually fallen asleep. Hi, hi! Wake up, Dave! Hi, hi!"
"Well, did you ever?" roared Dick. "All the same, bet he's been having some dandy inspirations for that great book of his!"